


Breathe Some Life Into My Bones

by mortenavida



Series: Write On My Heart [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Soul Bond, anonymous correspondence, l'appel du vide, soul messaging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 23:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16128623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortenavida/pseuds/mortenavida
Summary: Steve and Bucky always knew they were soulmates from the first moment they drew on their arms while they were camped out on the roof of their building under the stars. They then grew up sharing their secrets together on their skin. When Bucky shipped off to war, they kept in touch through their link until Steve arrived as Captain America. Losing each other to ice and snow was never in their plans, though. Seventy years later, after being pulled from the ice, Steve was sure he would never see Bucky, or get that feeling, again, but he kept writing messages. Then one day, someone answered.DO NOT READ PAIRINGS IF YOU WANT TO BE SURPRISED. :D





	Breathe Some Life Into My Bones

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the @cabigbang on tumblr. Title is taken from Barns Courtney’s “Little Boy” - I suggest listening to it because it’s amazing. Huge thanks to my Alpha reader Karen and my beta reader cuddlepuddlezz who read through all my nonsense like the champions they are. Shoutout to the lovely puttingtheassinassassin for the main banner help and being my cheerleader without knowing it, and to my roommate who pointed out what a stupid opening I had before. Double shoutout to my artist birdystark for her amazing work!
> 
> Links to the art and tumblr masterpost at the end.

_Little boy inside my chest / Breathe some life into my bones / I've been lost and wandering / Down and out and missing home_

 

 

 

Nobody had been sure how anybody found out - there were far too many rumors or old wives tales being spread around the world. One thing was for sure: when you wrote on your skin in a non-permanent way, your soul mate would see it show it up in the same spot on theirs. Steve used to go to bed with his mom, Sarah, showing him her arms and all the drawings her soul mate would leave her. It inspired Steve to learn to draw himself and he would spend hours perfecting the art on scraps of paper he found scattered across the city. His mom had never been able to properly be with her soul mate as they didn’t speak the same language. They knew they could never get enough money to get to each other, but they found comfort in their picture messages either way. When Steve asked how his dad felt about it, his mom would simply brush back his hair and say that he didn’t mind. From her tone, Steve knew she was lying and he promised himself that he would only be with his soulmate, nobody else.

 

Steve met Bucky when they were eight. Steve had been standing up to his first bully on the playground, giving him a stern talking-to for pushing over a little girl. Steve had been pushed down and kicked, but not for long. Bucky dove into the fray, hollering about the kids picking on someone their own size. It hurt to breathe and Steve was sure his eye was going to bruise with a nice purple color, but that didn’t stop him from looking up at his savior and insisting they both go to his house so his mom could look them over. Bucky had stumbled over his excuses, but Steve was determined.

 

Every morning after that, Bucky would knock on the Rogers’ door, asking if Steve could come out and play. Sarah would make sure both boys were fed, since Bucky tended to skip meals so his mother could feed his siblings, then send them off to play. When they would come home a little more bruised than normal, she simply huffed and cleaned them up before sending Bucky home.

 

Steve told Bucky all about the stories of his mom and her soulmate. One day, Bucky asked why Steve didn’t just write on his own skin and Steve had hesitated, not sure how to voice his fear. He wanted to _know_ his soulmate, not just know of them. Instead, he shrugged and simply told Bucky that it wasn’t fair if he couldn’t do more than talk through his skin. To not feel as awkward, he asked Bucky the same and his friend shrugged before saying that no other Barnes had a soulmate, so why should he?

 

The two would spend hours camping on Steve’s apartment roof, Steve with a sketchpad Bucky stole just for him and a bag of dried fruit. Steve would draw out the latest picture his mom showed him while Bucky made sure to feed him a piece of fruit now and then. It wasn’t until Steve was twelve that Bucky suggested that Steve send a message on his arm, see if anybody was listening. But Steve didn’t want to, because the only person Steve wanted as a soulmate at that point was Bucky. He didn’t want to find out he was wrong, so he made his excuses and claimed he was tired.

 

So Bucky took it into his own hands. He stole a pen from the store and the next time they were up on the roof, he pulled it out. “If I do it, you gotta do it,” he said, pen hovering over his forearm. “Come on, don’t you want to know?”

 

Steve didn’t want to know, but he nodded anyway. He was looking more at his own arm than he was at Bucky’s, praying to any god that would listen because the last thing he wanted to see was a blank space as soon as the ink touched flesh. And if it weren’t Bucky, then he wasn’t sure who else in the world it could be - who could be better than Bucky?

 

But when the pen pressed against Bucky’s skin, when Bucky made random lines and circles across his left forearm, Steve couldn’t help but stare at his own arm as the same patterns spread out across his pale flesh. Bucky wasn’t paying any attention, too focused on attempting to draw something with his limited artistic skills and for the first time since Steve started practicing in his room, he had hope. Unable to keep the smile from his face, he pulled his arm against his chest, hiding it from Bucky’s view. If he was able to get the joy of seeing his first marks appear, then Bucky should get the same privilege.

 

When he was done, Bucky held out his arm with a proud smile. “There,” he said. “The masterpiece is done. It’s our roof.”

 

And once that was pointed out, Steve could see that it was, in fact, a rendition of their roof.  “My turn,” he said, taking the pen from Bucky.

 

Steve made sure Bucky was still appreciating his own arm before looking down at his own. It was a good start for the roof, but Steve knew a way to make it just a bit better. Using Bucky’s own lines as a start, he pressed the pen to his skin and started filling in the details. He heard Bucky gasp beside him and felt himself blush as he continued, adding in the washing lines that nobody used in months and the broken chair someone left by the ledge.  He then drew their tent Bucky had built one night, made from some of their old shirts and broken broomsticks.

 

“Steve…”

 

Steve looked up from his arm and straight into Bucky’s eyes, wide and with a hint of fear. He stopped drawing, putting the pen down to sit up a bit. “Bucky, I—”

 

“But…”

 

Sarah had never told Steve that people rejected their soulmates, but the look in Bucky’s eyes told Steve that they might be the first. He pulled his arms close to his chest, looking away from Bucky so he wouldn’t have to see his expression. “We don’t gotta talk about it,” he mumbled.

 

After a long silence, Bucky shifted closer and took Steve’s left arm, pulling it out so he could look over the shared ink. “Is this real?”

 

“I… I think so?”

 

Bucky tilted Steve’s face up with his knuckle and Steve finally forced himself to look again. This time, Bucky was smiling, genuinely happy. Steve had actually never seen him quite this happy before and he reached out to take Bucky’s hand.

 

“Buck, I—”

 

“I knew it was you,” Bucky said, interrupting. “Ma always said it was weird when I told her I was sure, but now I’m definitely sure.” He rested their foreheads together. “Ain’t nobody going to separate us. I’m with you, pal.”

 

Steve smiled, relaxing against Bucky’s hold. “’Til the end of the line.”

 

They had been inseparable after that - wherever Steve was, Bucky was two steps behind him, making sure that nobody messed with what was his. Soulmates were still a rarity, especially ones that knew each other at all let alone at such a young age. A few kids teased them, called them names or tried to put them down, but Steve didn’t care what they said and Bucky barely let them say it in the first place.

 

They made sure to always have a pen on hand and constantly wrote each other notes when they were apart. Steve would fall asleep after writing Bucky a ‘good night’ and wake up to a ‘morning, punk’ in return. It seemed natural, when they were sixteen, to fall into bed together in the late evening of one hot August.

 

When Steve’s mom got sick, he drew a star on his palm, their symbol for ‘I need you,’ and Bucky showed up just minutes later.

 

When Bucky got drafted into the war, he drew the same star and Steve left the warmth of his apartment to meet Bucky as he came home, wrapping his friend, his soulmate, into his arms.

 

It was Bucky who constantly tried to mess up Steve’s attempts at getting into the army, writing things on Steve’s body that he couldn’t hide from the people inspecting him. Asthma, color blind… it wasn’t like they didn’t know, either, and Steve could never find it in himself to get too mad at him. Bucky just wanted to keep him safe, after all, and no matter how often Bucky tried to mess it up, Steve still felt like he had to try.

 

That feeling, that need to help, led him to the super soldier serum. The night before he was to undergo the procedure, he stayed up all night, writing back and forth with Bucky on the palm of their left hands. Bucky kept insisting that Steve stay home, to not do anything stupid until he got back. Steve kept underlining his original words on the top of his hand: _I have to do something_. Eventually, he simply wrote a shaky _I need you to be safe_ and their conversation went silent. Both of them knew there was a big possibility that Bucky wouldn’t come back alive.

 

Which was why Steve agreed to the Supersoldier program, and why he pushed through the procedure that changed his frail body into something strong. Something that _could_ protect Bucky. If the army would ever let him.

 

Bucky never did believe what Steve said about the serum. Even when Steve told him how fast he could run, or how much he could lift, or how many women he was now constantly around, Bucky just drew a smiling face and said ‘Miss you, Stevie.” The dots of each “I” were stars and each time he saw it, Steve’s heart broke just a little more. He knew he should be fighting, not dancing on stage like a monkey.

 

The last message from Bucky hadn’t changed and was fading by the time Steve arrived at what was left of the 107th. When Peggy Carter asked for proof that he knew Bucky was still alive, Steve simply held out his left palm and said that the words hadn’t disappeared, as they should have if Bucky’s heart stopped beating. Getting into a plane with Howard and Peggy hadn’t been the smartest thing, but it led him to Bucky.

 

His Bucky, who he lost almost as soon as he got him back. They had precious few weeks after Steve found him in that facility, though they were never able to be alone like they wanted to. Their team, the Commandos, would eye them as if they knew, but neither Steve nor Bucky wanted to take the chance of the other getting hurt by harsh words from men who would take a bullet for them. From men who had become their family.

 

After watching Bucky fall through the blizzard and disappear into the whiteness of the mountains, Steve wished that they were just a bit more careless. He wished that when Bucky had leaned in to kiss him in front of the guys, that Steve had let him. He _knew_ they had limited time, it was a war after all, and now he had nothing.

 

Steve didn’t even want to look at his left arm, knowing it would be blank. Their last conversation should have been there - Bucky’s scrawl on Steve’s arm while his own penmanship sat on his palm. It wasn’t even anything important - a stupid joke that they had told each other back when they were kids about the corner grocer.

 

By the time Steve was tilting the plane’s nose toward the ocean, he still hadn’t taken off his glove or undershirt to look. As the ice and water got closer, he closed his eyes and wished for the comfort of a pen, but he stopped carrying one the day Bucky fell. Besides, messages didn’t reach Heaven, so anything he wrote now would never reach Bucky.

 

The plane hit the ice, and Steve closed his eyes and thought of nothing but Bucky until he lost consciousness. He expected to open his eyes again to see Bucky’s face, frowning at him because of what he did. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” Bucky had said, and Steve ignored the words as usual. They would hug, rejoice in the fact that at least they were together even in death.

 

But Steve didn’t wake up to Bucky. Instead, he had woken up in a new time period with the last words he ever said to Bucky erased from his skin. Already, he felt too lost to care and he just wanted to go home, especially after hearing about Howard Stark’s death and Peggy’s Alzheimer's.

 

Instead, he sat outside Stark Tower and stared up at the penthouse windows, wondering why a building that caused such an eyesore drew him in.

 

 

Steve sat in the S.H.I.E.L.D. debriefing room, staring at his left palm in his lap as Maria Hill told the Avengers what a great job they did, how they saved the world, and stopped an invasion, and how people would thank them for years to come. And Steve just didn’t _care_. Not about the world, not about the city they had just saved, because if he could save a city, then why couldn’t he have saved his own soulmate? He clenched his fist and looked around the table at the people surrounding him.

 

Tony was spinning slowly in his chair, staring at images on his phone before swiping past them. Next to him sat Bruce Banner, the man who could turn into the Hulk, and he looked a little more relaxed than the last few times Steve had seen the man. Natasha and Clint sat on the opposite side of the table, Natasha rubbing her thumbs into Clint’s palm as the man relaxed back into his chair. If he had to guess, Steve would think they were soulmates. Beside them, closest to Hill, sat Thor, hands clasped together as they rested on the table. Something definitely troubled him, but Steve wasn’t sure he should (or wanted to) ask.

 

“Good work,” Hill said, finishing up her speech. “You are all free to go, but should we need you again…”

 

“You’ll call, got it.” Tony stood, tucking his phone in his pocket as if he had been listening the entire time. “Is that all? Can we go now, teacher?”

 

Hill crossed her arms. “Almost. Unless you don’t want to see Thor off to Asgard.”

 

The smile on Tony’s face didn’t reach his eyes and something about that made Steve want to fix it. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Come on, field trip.”

 

Steve stood with the rest of them as they piled into the elevator. Tony (mostly) and Bruce kept up a conversation that went completely over his head, but at least it was talking and not silence. Steve wanted to say something, figured he should say something, but the words were stuck in his throat. It was just last week that he had lost the Howling Commandos, and now he was supposed to suddenly have loyalty to new people?

 

He couldn’t do that.

 

Tony stepped out of the elevator with Bruce once they reached the garage and, before he realized what he was doing, Steve followed. It wasn’t until the doors shut behind him that Steve realized he should be back inside, helping the rest of the team get Loki from the cell they put him in. He debated just taking the stairs, but by the time he had made up his mind, Tony was staring at him, eyebrow arched.

 

“You good, Cap?”

 

Tony Stark, the son of his friend, the arrogant genius who didn’t know his own worth it seemed. Steve felt guilty for saying he wouldn’t lay on the wire for others because that’s exactly what he had done in New York. And Steve knew all too well the feelings that came with willingly giving your life with the excuse of the Greater Good. He had done it with the grenade before he became Cap, and again with the plane.

 

Steve nodded, tucking his hands in his jacket pockets as he finally answered Tony. “Yeah, I just… thought we could talk.”

 

“About what?”

 

“What was said.” It was mostly true; Steve wanted to apologize if Tony would accept it. “Back on the Helicarrier.”

 

“Water under the bridge.” Tony stepped closer, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Come on, let me give you a ride.”

 

“I have a ride.” Steve pointed to a motorcycle Nick had let him pick out from the S.H.I.E.L.D. garage. “Bit faster than I’m used to, but I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it.”

 

“Yeah, that does look like your style.” Tony let his hand drop. “No harm done, it’s in the past. But I’ll expect you to come by and let me take a look at your suit, right?”

 

Steve let himself smile, glad for the concern. As much as he liked the suit Coulson helped design, it wasn’t really him, and it didn’t feel like it was enough. “I’m already talking with Fury about getting me something with a little more padding.”

 

“Ribs still hurt?”

 

“Not as much as yours, I’m sure.”

 

Tony laughed. “Yeah, yeah you’re probably right. Listen, you should come by some time anyway. I have some things you might like.”

 

Steve arched an eyebrow. “Things?”

 

“Yeah, personal effects. Somehow my dad got ‘em after you went into the ice. Things I didn’t think a museum would really appreciate having.”

 

“A… what?”

 

“Oh, they didn’t tell you?” Tony rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “The Smithsonian has an entire exhibit on your and your command. You should check it out sometime.”

 

Steve clenched his left fist. “Oh…”

 

Tony shook his head. “They don’t know everything, Steve, because I wouldn’t let them have it. Some things are… too personal for the world, I think.”

 

So he probably knew about Bucky; Steve wanted to sit, but he forced himself to keep standing. “Thank you.”

 

“No problem, Cap.” Tony patted his arm awkwardly before stepping back. “I’ll see you at the park, okay? And before you leave there, let me give you a phone. It’ll have Jarvis installed so he can show you the ropes. I promise, I won’t peek.”

 

“Thank you, Tony, I’d appreciate that.”

 

Tony saluted him, mockingly but Steve smiled all the same. “Anything for you, oh Captain, my Captain.”

 

That had to be a reference that Steve didn’t understand, but he would one day. He figured he should start a list so he could keep up with anything people tried to reference. Before he could stop himself, Steve called out Tony’s name and watched as the billionaire stopped at his car door and turned toward him.

 

“If you wanted to recommend anything,” Steve said, feeling awkward under the smile Tony was giving him, “I wouldn’t be opposed. You can put a list in that phone you’d give me.”

 

“Consider it done.” Tony got into the car and, for a moment, Steve wondered how anything so low and flat could even fit two people comfortably. But Bruce didn’t look uncomfortable, so Steve let them go without another word.

 

Later, after Thor and Loki disappeared into the sky like the gods they were, Steve refused Tony’s invitation to stay at the tower. He wanted to see a few places before he officially went back to Brooklyn. He and Bucky had a list of places along the Canadian border they wanted to see as well, and part of Steve hoped that it would be cathartic for him to go. He might not have Bucky anymore, but he had his memory.

 

For now, he followed Clint and Natasha back to S.H.I.E.L.D. to get a decent night’s sleep. The beds might not be as comfortable aboard the damaged carrier as they could have been in Tony’s tower, but at least the carrier held some kind of comfort with it being military. The stale rooms and plain hallways were oddly calming; Steve pictured the tower to be a bland form of homey - the right ingredients for it to feel comfortable, but without the heart that went into making it feel inviting. So, military bare it was.

 

The room S.H.I.E.L.D. assigned him was still intact, even after the disasters that happened aboard. Steve thought about checking to make sure that he was still allowed to be in the room alone, in case others were displaced, but one look at the only bed in the room made him rethink that. As much as he normally didn’t mind sharing with people and even taking the floor, he was too tired and his muscles too worn for that.

 

Steve shut the door behind him, quietly moving the lock into place. He could faintly still hear the announcements in the hall and knew that another speaker in the room would alert him to any further emergencies, so for now, he was free to actually rest. Fighting aliens differed from Nazi Hydra agents more than he would ever admit to the others, so while he was alone, he felt he was allowed to feel just a little more beat up than he let on.

 

He gingerly pulled his shirt off, wincing as he stretched the bruise left on his side after taking an alien shot to the ribs. Nothing was broken thankfully, but it hurt like hell. He let out a low hiss as he lowered his arms and then turned to the only mirror in the room. It hung on the back of the door, letting Steve fully see the damage across his upper body.

 

“Damn,” he said to himself. When taking off his suit earlier, he was too focused on the debriefing to really look at what happened to him. He then laughed and went to the bedside table to grab the pen they had left for him.

 

Steve pressed it against the skin of his arm and drew one line before he remembered. Whatever message he was about to leave, Bucky would never read it because Bucky was dead. Bucky was buried in the ice and snow of a mountain, far from where Steve could touch him.

 

A shaky breath passed through Steve and, for a moment, he wondered how he could have even forgotten such a thing in the first place. The calendar may have changed decades, but his memory didn’t.  Steve closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against the sides of his head.

 

“Stupid,” he muttered to no one. “Stupid, Rogers. _Stupid_.”

 

He let himself fall back on the uncomfortable bed, wondering now if this had been the best idea after all. Maybe the tower would have had something that could knock him out, let him sleep and forget the ache that tore through his chest.

 

Steve opened his eyes again and raised his left hand above him. He stared at it for a long time, lost in his thoughts. Soulmates weren’t well documented after half the pair died, so who said Bucky _wouldn’t_ get his message? Maybe he was in Heaven and God let the good souls still communicate. And of course Bucky was a good soul; Steve wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

He sat up and pressed the tip of his pen against his arm again. After a deep breath, he wrote out three words before he could stop himself.

 

 _I miss you_.

 

Something eased in his chest and Steve put the pen on the table beside him. Exhaustion caught up with him again and he lay back on the bed, facing the pen on the bedside table. He adjusted his position so he could see the shaky letters on his arm, spelling out a message he prayed reached his soulmate.

 

“I miss you,” he said aloud before shutting his eyes and letting sleep take him.

 

 

S.H.I.E.L.D. had given Steve his own apartment, fully paid through the next two years to give him time to settle in and get himself used to this new life. They had given him money as well a new phone, but Steve refused the latter and instead used the one Tony had slipped to him in the park. He didn’t use it often, except when Tony sent him a message with another thing to look at. The latest was a video on New York apartment living that Steve wasn’t all too sure he needed. Though he was sure Tony would have something to say about the way his apartment was decorated - most of the space was taken up by things that would remind Steve of his life in the 40’s, the last few years he had with Bucky.

 

The video did give him an idea, and Steve clenched his left hand before holding his phone out with his right and asking for it to call Tony. He appreciated what S.H.I.E.L.D. was trying to do, but it was too much. It reminded him of the past and he was sure that was going to do nothing but make him drop another plane in the ocean.

 

He had already sorted out a ‘keep’ pile by the time Tony strolled through the front door, letting out a low whistle. “They didn’t even try to be sensitive about it,” he said, reaching out to touch a picture hanging on the wall with his right hand. “What did you have in mind, Cap?”

 

“Did you know I was colorblind?” Steve asked, putting a record player on a side table. “Before the serum, I mean.”

 

“It was in your file.”

 

Because what wasn’t in his file? “Yes, well… if this was a replica of what my apartment with Bucky looked like, I’m wondering if he was color blind, too.”

 

Tony laughed - not mocking as Steve would have expected, but genuine and amused. “I can help with that,” he said. “I’m assuming you’re an in-person kind of guy. You don’t want to just get something off a website.”

 

“I’d like to see it, yeah.” Steve turned, looking around the room. “I’d like to keep some of the stuff, but…”

 

“I get it.” Tony pulled out his phone, stuffing his left hand in his pocket before leaning against the wall comfortably. “I got a crew that can move all of this stuff out. Just make a list of what you want to keep and it’ll be untouched.”

 

“Thank you, Tony. For doing this, I mean.”

 

Tony shrugged and typed out a few more things with his thumb before shoving his phone in his inside jacket pocket. “What are friends for? Come on, let’s make that list.”

 

Steve motioned to the corner he stood in front of. “Everything here, really.”

 

“What about kitchen? Bedroom?”

 

Steve glanced toward his bedroom and, just for a moment, he could see Bucky walk out of it, ragged towel around his waist as he complained about not being able to find his favorite pair of pants. Without Bucky’s pile of clothes in the corner and his book-of-the-week on the nightstand, it just felt empty. He forced himself to look toward the kitchen instead.

 

“Plates are plates,” Steve said with a shrug. “I guess they can leave that alone.”

 

“I’ll let them know,” Tony said, thankfully not mentioning the bedroom again. “Come on, I’ve got a great place to go.”

 

For the first time since he arrived in this strange future, Steve relaxed, letting Tony pat him on the shoulder and lead him out of the building. The genius talked about everything he knew about interior design and Steve let the words flow over him. He didn’t need anything as elaborate as Tony described, but he just liked hearing the man talk. He asked about wall colors and if they should redo the flooring (Steve denied both, saying they were fine). He asked about bathroom rugs and the latest books. Asked Steve if he had looked at the list yet, then added a few things to it when Steve said he had. By the time they arrived to a store larger than anything Steve had seen before, Steve was convinced that Tony not only knew more than anyone he knew, but that Tony didn’t know how to stop learning.

 

Deep down, in a place Steve hadn’t thought of since before Bucky, he yearned for someone like that. Steve quickly pushed those thoughts down. Tony had Pepper, Steve had (the memory of) Bucky.

 

“How do you know so much about my tastes?” he asked as they stepped into the store. “I know you had Howard telling you things, but some of what you’re suggesting is… oddly specific.”

 

“I’m good at reading people,” Tony told him. “And I had to redo the tower anyway, so I made you a room there. You know, if you want to come live with me and Bruce instead of in Brooklyn.”

 

Steve rubbed at his left hand, smudging the faded words still there. “Not yet. Maybe one day, but…”

 

“I get it.” Tony stopped at a display and picked up a mug, inspecting it instead of looking at Steve. “You trust me? To decorate your place, I mean.”

 

It took just one look at Tony’s already defeated posture, the determined set of his expression, for Steve to know his answer. “Of course. Out of everyone here, so far you seem the most perceptive. Besides maybe Natasha.”

 

Tony snorted and motioned an employee over. “That’s because she’s a spy, Cap. Get used to it.” He smiled at the star-struck teenager that approached them. “Hey, yeah. Do you have those little scanning guns for registries? That might be easier for us since I don’t know how much we’re getting.”

 

“Yes, of course, yeah.” The kid glanced between them. “I have to put it under a program… We have wedding and baby?”

 

Tony looked back to Steve before glancing at his stomach. “Yep, don’t think a baby’s going to fit in there. Let’s just call it a wedding, that’ll be fun if the press finds it. Thanks, kid.”

 

Steve watched the teen run off before clearing his throat. “Wedding?”

 

“Some stores have things called a registry,” Tony explained. “It’s for big events, like a wedding or a baby shower, where a lot of gifts are expected. The couple, or the parents whatever, come here and scan items they’d like to get as gifts. Makes the process easier for guests who don’t have a clue what to get them.”

 

“And we’re going to use that how?”

 

“You’re going to scan things you like, I’m going to then go on the registry and buy them all.” Tony moved to a different display. “Need some towels? I bet these are more comfortable than whatever S.H.I.E.L.D. gave you.”

 

Steve shook his head. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were selfish, even with the scepter involved.”

 

“Yeah, well, my reputation didn’t exactly help. Here, this one is your color.” Tony held up a blue towel that was bigger than any towel Steve had ever seen. “Matches your eyes.”

 

Steve looked over the towels, then gave Tony a smile. “Why not get them in all the colors. We seem to have the whole team here.”

 

Tony laughed, the same amused laugh that he had given Steve in the apartment. “Are we going to have a theme, Captain?”

 

“Might as well.” Steve looked over as the teen came back with an L-shaped device. “Scan away, Tony.”

 

“My pleasure, Cap.” Tony held the towel out to the kid. “Two of each color. And if you see anything else that has the Avengers color pattern, go ahead and scan two of those as well.”

 

The kid’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

 

“Of course. I’m sure you know this place well enough to point us in the right direction.”

 

Steve smiled as the kid grinned and immediately began scanning items. Steve followed behind, amused at not only Tony’s excitement of each item he was introducing to Steve, but the kid’s obvious joy in being around the two of them. He didn’t ask many questions about the battle, but he had definitely thanked them more than once for it. Tony had hesitated the first time, but as soon as Steve put a comforting hand on his back, the genius relaxed and let the conversation flow. Steve would have to remember to talk to him when they were alone - something about New York bothered Tony. Steve was sure it had nothing to do with the aliens and more to do with doing something he wasn’t sure he would return from.

 

Steve could relate.

 

“How much have we scanned?” Steve asked what felt like hours later, even if they had only gone through a quarter of the store. “I don’t think all of this is going to fit in my place.”

 

“Then we’ll store some at the tower. For when you decide to come sleep over.” Tony picked up a box of coffee that read ‘k-cups’ on the side. “For some reason, I don’t see you liking the new coffee. But let’s try it.”

 

“Tony, no.”

 

“Tony, yes,” Tony said as he held out the box for the boy to scan.

 

“I’m fine with a normal, old-fashioned kettle,” Steve insisted.

 

Tony immediately pointed toward a machine for the kid to also scan. “This is a travesty. You need fast coffee, not slow coffee.”

 

“Tony...”

 

“If anything, it’ll go to the tower and I’ll use it,” Tony insisted. “Or I’ll take it apart and make it something better.”

 

Steve smiled and picked up a coffee mug he liked, holding it out. “You’re impossible.”

 

“You like it, don’t lie.”

 

Steve really couldn’t, so he just shook his head. “I’m going to pay you back for all of this, you know.”

 

Tony gasped and pressed his palm against his chest. “Cap, I’m offended.”

 

“I don’t know if you remember, but I came from a little Brooklyn apartment,” Steve said. “Back in the ‘40’s, Buck and I couldn’t just … buy all of this. Not unless we stole it.”

 

“Be still my heart. Captain America stole things?” Tony pointed for the teen to scan a few more contraptions they were near. Steve didn’t even know what they were for. “That just doesn’t seem like you.”

 

Steve picked up some kind of hand towel covered in a Hawaiian design. “It was a different time. I hadn’t gotten my spandex and shield, yet.”

 

Tony reached out to take the towel, scoffing at Steve’s bad idea of a joke. “Put this down, it doesn’t match the color scheme.” He tossed it to the side before turning back to Steve, putting his hands on his upper arms. Steve felt a little ridiculous and he arched an eyebrow at Tony. “And don’t look at me like that. Let me talk.”

 

“I’m not stopping you,” Steve said, amused.

 

“Yes you are, with that look. I’m about to give you some fantastic advice and you’re giving me a look.”

 

Steve tried (and failed) to school his features. “Sorry, Tony.”

 

“Ah, huh. Okay, look. Yes, my dad was highly obsessed with finding you and he would tell me all these stories about the war and you and Aunt Peggy. Shut up, yes I called her that.” Tony rubbed Steve’s arms with his thumbs; Steve was sure that Tony didn’t even realize he was doing it. “He kept everything you had. Claimed that you were his property since you were made with all of his equipment. Don’t know how he got the government on his side, but that made him in charge of all of your … possessions and accounts.”

 

“I think you’ve mentioned this, yeah.”

 

Tony dropped his arms and reached into his jacket pocket. Steve caught a glimpse of the blue lining and smiled as Bucky’s voice came to mind. _Your eyes look like the sky sometimes, Steve. One day, I’ll invent something so you can see it proper_. The lining was lighter than the sky typically was, but Steve could see Bucky holding it up to his face, declaring it perfect anyway. He didn’t think he would ever get used to seeing so many colors.

 

“Here,” Tony said, pulling out a card. “I wasn’t sure how to give it to you, but this is yours. The PIN is, uh… It’s 7-4-2-0.”

 

“My birthday.” Steve took the card, smiling a little at the flag photo decorating the front of the card. “Really?”

 

“I thought it suited you.” Tony shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Listen, Cap, I know today’s world is kind of weird and technology kind of exploded, but I promise that if you come to me, I won’t belittle you. Anything, no matter how small. Okay?”

 

Steve pulled out his wallet to put the card away. “Thanks, Tony. I appreciate it. I really do.” He nestled it right next to the card Nick had given him just after waking up from the ice. The man had explained that they needed time to get all of Steve’s possessions and accounts back, and now Steve knew why it was taking them so long -- of course Tony wouldn’t give it up so easily. Not when he could give it to Steve himself.

 

“Cap?”

 

“Hm?”

 

Tony bent over so he could put his face as much into Steve’s vision as he could without bumping into the wallet. “Wanna share what’s got you giving your wallet a shit-eating grin?”

 

Steve really shouldn’t do this, but… He picked up what looked to be a pirate-themed kitchen set. “Think Nick would appreciate this as a gift? You do like to call him a pirate...”

 

Tony stared at the kitchen set, then Steve, and then laughed, using a shelf behind him to steady himself. Steve found himself grinning, enjoying the genuine mirth Tony experience because of a silly joke he made. Bucky would have encouraged him to buy it and he wasn’t sure what way Tony would go, but this was a good indication. He motioned the kid over to have him scan the set.

 

“Whoever insisted you were the poster-boy for all that is good and just has never met you,” Tony said, moving to the next section of the store once he got his breath back. He turned as soon as Steve got close enough and put an arm around his shoulder. “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

 

“If you’re going to drop references, you would at least tell me where they’re from.”

 

Tony arched an eyebrow. “How’d you know?”

 

“You have a tell.” Steve groaned as they got to the next section. “I feel like we just got out of towels and nonsense.”

 

“Now we’re into bedding. Come on, Rogers, after this is decor.”

 

Steve glanced to the teen before shrugging and following after Tony. They didn’t leave the store until close to closing, and Steve had a personal delivery from Tony’s people the next day with more stuff than he would ever need.

 

Beautiful friendship indeed.

 

 

It hadn’t been in the store they were in, but a complete art set arrived with the rest of Steve’s new things. He wasn’t sure how exactly he felt, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was no secret to those who looked that he was artistic - he even made a small living off of it before he became Captain America. Bucky would lean over his shoulder at the kitchen table as Steve drew out whatever cartoon the paper wanted the next day.

 

Granted, Bucky usually ended up with his nose in Steve’s neck, making him blush all the way down to his toes. It tended not to matter who your soul mate was, people accepted it when there was proof, but Steve was still worried. There were still stories of people faking it to be together, and then there were the stories of people getting hurt even if they could prove it. Still, Steve hadn’t let them get past making out on the couch and the occasional hand job, too afraid a neighbor was going to break down their door and demand something happen to them.

 

Steve looked down at his left hand, flexing it. Closed, open, close, open… over and over again. He let out a breath and leaned forward to rest his arms on either side of the sketchbook on his kitchen table. He had drawn some, before New York, but now all he wanted to do was see Bucky again. He picked up the pencil (”A sketching pencil, because technology even improved these” the note had said) and, after another deep breath, got to work.

 

Sketching Bucky was as easy as breathing. Steve knew his face well, down to the last pimple he popped their last lazy Saturday together. Bucky on the couch and Steve on his lap, quiet in the early morning light pouring through the window. A pimple poked out from Bucky’s chin, sticking out obnoxiously.

 

“ _You can’t have that when you ship out_ ,” Steve had insisted before being pulled into Bucky’s arms. “ _Hold still, let me get rid of it._ ”

 

“ _My hero_ ,” Bucky drawled. Once the pimple was popped, he had pressed a kiss to Steve’s left hand in a silent promise to keep in touch.

 

They hadn’t moved off the couch for the rest of the day. Steve hadn’t wanted to let go, and Bucky didn’t seem to mind. All Steve wanted to do was go back to that time, let that moment on the couch last forever. And for now, trapped on the page of Steve’s new sketchbook, it would stay. The rest of the room didn’t matter, just the smile on Bucky’s face as Steve’s smaller fingers pressed into his chin.

 

Steve leaned back in his chair, staring at the smile that had been burned into his memory. “The world is different,” he found himself saying to the picture. “You would have loved all of this stuff, Buck. Aliens and cell phones and food delivery services.”

 

Beside the sketchbook lay a box of inking pens. Steve stared at them, itching to put one to his own palm even if it wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t as if Bucky would answer him. Even so, Steve found himself reaching for a pen and pressing the tip to the palm of his left hand. He stayed like that for a long while before he couldn’t help himself.

 

_Where are you?_

 

He dropped the pen to the table and stared at the words on his palm, knowing that he wasn’t going to receive an answer, but wanting one anyway.

 

When sun set through the window and the lights of the city nightlife came through his window instead and Steve still didn’t have a response, he let himself cry for the first time. By the time he woke up, head on his hands at the table, the words on his hand were blurred and almost unreadable.

 

Steve kept them there.

 

 

Nick approached Steve the next week, bringing up the idea of Steve leading a strike team that would take care of tasks normal Agents couldn’t complete. For lack of anything better to do with his time, Steve took the position and the condition that he have a member of his team with him on every mission. Thor was on Asgard, Tony in his tower, Bruce with Tony, Clint was rehabilitating himself, which left Natasha.

 

Missions came weekly after that. Protect this man, take down another. Go in stealth to steal this item or save that person. Steve lost himself in the work. It helped more than sitting alone in his Brooklyn apartment, especially after Tony let him know he was moving back to California with Pepper. Despite only speaking occasionally over the phone after their shopping trip, Steve considered Tony to be one of his closest friends in the area.

 

That night, he had sat down with a pen and wrote to Bucky again.   _I don’t like being the only one left._ The lack of responses didn’t hurt as much as they used to, but Steve still waited for them.

 

After one harsh mission where one of the team got injured and they weren’t sure if he would make it, Steve had sat down in the empty cafeteria at the Triskelion and stared at the faded words that still sat on his palm ( _Finally visiting Canada. Only took me ninety years_ \- he had been telling Bucky everywhere he went for some time now). He took a breath before licking his right thumb and then rubbing the words off his left palm. Once his palm was cleared, he pulled a pen out of his pocket and pressed it against his palm.

 

_I think I need to stop, but I can’t. Stopping means you aren’t here, Buck._

 

He clenched his palm closed and stared up at the ceiling, just barely holding himself back from crying. He hadn’t been to see Peggy in a while, one of the last Commando had died right before he got to the future, his new best friend just moved to the other side of the country, and his soulmate died right in front of him. How much was he really supposed to handle?

 

“Steve?”

 

He closed his eyes at Natasha’s voice, not sure he wanted to go with her to whatever debrief she was probably sent down here for. He just let out a sigh before holding up a finger, silently asking her to give him a moment.

 

Steve hadn’t expected to feel her fingers gently comb through his hair. Hadn’t expected her to simply stand behind him and offer support in the only way Steve accepted it right now. He bit his lip, leaning just a bit further back so his head could touch her stomach while her fingers continued massaging his head.

 

“I asked for a week or so of time off for us,” she said, voice low. “You need it.”

 

He scoffed. “I need—”

 

“To relax. You got here and immediately fought aliens in New York. After that, you joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and have been running missions for months. You’re looking for something that isn’t there and you need to take time to grieve for what you’ve lost.”

 

Steve opened his eyes to look at her. “Nat…”

 

She motioned to the pen. “It was in your file from Stark.”

 

“I see.” Steve leaned forward, pulling away from her fingers. “You think I should stop, then.”

 

“No.” Natasha sat next to him and took his still-closed hand in hers. “But maybe get to a place where you don’t need to worry about people asking you to. Whatever it takes to heal.”

 

“I’m not sure I want to.”

 

Natasha massaged Steve’s hand until it opened, revealing what he had written there. She leaned closer, then smiled softly. “Looks like fate has other plans.” She nudged Steve’s arm closer to him where words were appearing near his wrist.

 

_I’m not who you’re looking for, but if speaking to me helps, go for it._

Steve stared at his arm, then at Natasha. She patted his arm before standing and leaving the cafeteria. He stayed there until he lost track of time, fingers gently tracing over the slightly scribbled letters, and dared to hope.

 

 

They shared messages all the time after that. Steve didn’t know exactly who he was talking to, and he never asked for a name. Whoever it was didn’t share any information either, just input on where Steve was and where to get the best food around there. So far, the other person wasn’t wrong. A mission in Beijing brought Steve to the best stir-fry he had eaten in his life, and the one time he made it back to England found him eating at what looked like a shack, but served the best chowder.

 

Returning back to an empty home, where only his neighbor seemed to talk to him, got easier. Sometimes Steve wouldn’t talk, but instead use his arm as a canvas for the night and just draw what came to mind. Sometimes it was Bucky’s face ( _Is that him? He’s handsome._ ), other times it was the view from his apartment window ( _That skyline is in New York… Nice place._ ). There was even one night Steve had done a portrait of the Avengers team on the inside of his left arm. His companion answered not with questions, but by drawing a mustache on Natasha’s face and giving the Iron Man suit a beard. Steve had laughed and taken a picture of it with his phone, sending it to Natasha with a title of “Collaboration with my palm-pal.”

 

Slowly, Steve relaxed into the world. But it wasn’t until he came back from a mission in Mexico that he realized he had been ignoring a few people that he had sworn were part of his team. As soon as he saw the news about the disaster in California and Miami, he picked up his phone and tried to call Tony. When he, and Pepper, didn’t pick up, Steve realized that he wasn’t even sure when he lost touch with them. He had no access to Thor, but he knew someone who was looking for him. He should have reached out to Jane Foster. Natasha kept in touch with Clint, but that didn’t mean that he should have just relied on her. Bruce was still in the tower and Steve could have gone there at any point.

 

He had been too caught up in himself, and his new companion. He had to end it, at least until he got his team back. Steve clenched his left fist.  It shouldn’t take that long to get back in touch with everyone he could. A few days, depending on where Tony was. Depending on how Tony was, too.

 

Steve grabbed a pen and sat down at his kitchen table, taking a deep breath before opening his palm. Before he could move to apologize and say he wouldn’t write again, words appeared.

 

_You there? I could use a friend._

 

And really, what could he say to that? He got up to get a wet and dry rag before sitting back down. Steve picked up the pen, let out a breath, and answered.

 

 _I was just thinking about you_.

 

The message written, he picked up his phone and sent another off to Natasha, asking her to use her contacts to find out anything she could on what happened to Tony. Then he asked for Clint’s number.  She sent that back first, but Steve knew she would be looking into Tony for him as well.

 

_Makes my heart warm and fuzzy._

 

Steve smiled sadly at the message and erased his own with the rag before sending another one.

 

_I haven’t heard from you in a while._

So Steve’s evening continued, with messages coming in at random times. After waiting nearly five minutes for the next one, Steve went about his usual routine at the apartment - making food for a few days, cleaning up what little mess he had made, and knocking another movie off of his never-ending list. He didn’t pay too much attention to the film, mostly answering random questions his friend sent him. Steve wanted to ask why he said he needed a friend, but he didn’t want to push too far. Not yet.

 

Maybe he could get his team back and keep up the discussions on his arm. Even if he could potentially never meet the person on the other side of the messages, they did bring him comfort.

 

 _I just don’t think the Zorro movies stand up to The Mark of Zorro_.

 

Never mind that Steve had only seen one of the newer films. He would always remember sneaking into the theater with Bucky when _The Mark of Zorro_ came out. He remembered going home and jumping on their bed, insisting that one day, he could be just as good as Zorro. Bucky had laughed, but tossed a fake sword they kept from when they were kids at Steve before challenging him to a duel. It had ended with Bucky’s hands down his pants and Steve being unable to breathe right, but in a good way.

 

_You probably like most of the old action movies, don’t you._

 

Steve couldn’t deny that, so he didn’t. Which led to another discussion about his apparent lack of taste. Between that, Steve had finally gotten Clint to respond to his message (”Didn’t know you could text, Cap. Welcome to the 21st century”), and had a lunch “date” with Bruce the following weekend.

 

By the time the movie ended ( _Indiana Jones_ and the something), Steve felt more confident and also more relaxed. He looked down at his left palm, at the latest suggestion of a “great action film” from his friend, then smiled softly.

 

_I think I needed a friend, too. Thank you._

 

There was no response and Steve thought that maybe his friend had just gone to bed. But as he settled himself down for the night and went to turn off the light beside his bed, he saw the reply.

 

_Any time. Thanks for not disappearing._

 

After that, Steve knew that he couldn’t just drop someone out of his life just because they might not understand where he was coming from. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

 

 

The view of New York while standing on the balcony of Stark Tower was breathtaking. After they had picked up Loki, Steve stood on the crumbling edge and just watched the smoldering fires while the S.H.I.E.L.D. clean-up crews poured in. Something about being that high above the chaos was almost freeing - one step and Steve’s life would change forever.

 

He had stepped back then, further onto the balcony. There was work to do, after all.

 

Now, when New York was more or less put back together - even the murals of the Avengers were fading - the view was no less breathtaking. Steve kept his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to run his hand over the glass separating him from the drop below. He was sure Tony had someone that would come out and wipe his handprint away, so why bother making the mess in the first place.

 

“Nickel for your thoughts?”

 

Steve turned toward Tony as the man joined him on the balcony. “What?”

 

“Inflation, Cap. Did I get it wrong?” Tony leaned directly against the glass and Steve had to resist the urge to reach forward and pull him away from it. “Dollar for your thoughts? Five?”

 

“I’m sure the expression stayed the same,” Steve said with a small smile. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

 

“Which just got better, I know, I know.” Tony winked before turning his head to look over the city. “Seems quiet tonight.”

 

“I’m surprised you hear anything up here with how high it is.” Steve held up his right hand, stopping Tony’s explanation before he could even start. “I know how sound works. Close your mouth, a bird could nest there.”

 

“Where did this sass come from, Rogers? Who did this to you?”

 

Steve stepped further back to the benches and sat. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’ve had that all my life.”

 

“And here the media portrays you as an angel.”

 

“And you the devil.”

 

Tony tilted his head and didn’t refute the statement. “What a pair we make.”

 

Steve patted the spot next to him. “Come on, you’re making me nervous.”

 

“What?” Tony looked behind him, then back to Steve. “You do remember that Loki tossed me from a window and I survived.”

 

“And? I’ve jumped from a plane without a parachute a few times.” He patted the spot again. “Just make an old man happy.”

 

“Little too much kink for me, thanks.” Still, Tony pushed off the glass and sat beside Steve. “Thanks for helping me take Dum-E back to the lab. Poor guy needs a lot of repairs before he’s well.”

 

“Of course,” Steve said. “I’m glad I showed up when I did.”

 

Tony tilted his head a bit, almost like a curious puppy. It was endearing and Steve wasn’t altogether sure why. “What brings you around the tower anyway?”

 

The message he found on his hand from that morning felt as if it were burning, though Steve knew that it had already been erased. _Sometimes I wonder if people don’t touch others enough._ It hit Steve hard as he couldn’t remember the last time he had been physically affectionate with anyone besides a quick pat on the shoulder and a “good job” after a mission. It had been easy with Bucky, and then the Commandos, but his team didn’t even live in the same state let alone close area.

 

“I was thinking about taking you up on your offer. Moving in, I mean.” Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. There was still no new message on his arm and he wished there were words of encouragement. “If the offer is still open.”

 

Tony rested a hand on Steve’s back and the weight relaxed him. “The offer is always open. I’ve redecorated your room at least twice.”

 

“Tony...”

 

“No, really, it needed it.” Tony rubbed Steve’s back a little before taking his hand away. “The look was way off and it just needed to be redone.”

 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you should have been an interior designer.”

 

“Who says I’m not?”

 

Steve smiled at him. “You seem to be doing well, then.”

 

Tony shrugged and brushed some dirt from his pants. “Who says I wouldn’t be?”

 

“I heard about Miami--”

 

“In the past. Don’t really want to talk about it.”

 

“Tony...”

 

Tony stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, not looking at Steve. “Shit happened, Cap. Wasn’t the best shit, but it’s over.”

 

“You destroyed your suits.” Steve stood as well. “Your house...”

 

“Homes can be rebuilt,” he murmured. “And the suits...”

 

Steve reached forward to pull Tony against him into a hug. “You’re still Iron Man, suit or not. You’re still Tony Stark and you’re still one of the strongest men I know.”

 

Tony snorted. “Of course you would say that.”

 

“I say it because it’s true.” Steve rubbed Tony’s back. “Why don’t you show me my room and then we can sit down and watch one of the movies on my list. I’m sure you have a suggestion.”

 

Tony let out a breath against Steve’s chest before his arms came up to return the hug. He gave a small nod, but didn’t move away from the embrace for a long time.

 

 

A routine was quickly put in place. Steve woke up early and went to the gym to give himself a good workout. Then he would take a shower before eating breakfast in the shared kitchen. Sometimes Tony and Bruce would be there, sometimes it was Natasha, but most of the time he was alone. If he were alone, he ate between drawing portraits on his arm of people and places he once knew.  After breakfast, he would check in with S.H.I.E.L.D. to see if they had a mission for him. When they didn’t, he would go back to his room and either sketch or read.

 

The portraits on his arm would disappear sometime before lunch, replaced with messages between himself and his palm-pal. For dinner, he would meet Tony in the shared kitchen to watch Bruce make something for the three (or more) of them to eat. Steve would remove whatever the last message he sent before meeting with them, and he never questioned when his palm-pal didn’t answer either.

 

After dinner, they would retire to the living room and either watch something or listen to music while they all did their own thing. Bruce and Tony would pour over scientific data and Steve would read. Natasha would usually put her feet in Steve’s lap if she were there and he would rub her soles with one hand while holding his book with the other. If they were feeling adventurous, Steve would paint her toenails and pretend to not notice the soft smile gracing her face.

 

On the nights Clint came in and the entire team was around, they would gather around and either play a board game Steve had never heard of, or one of the various video games that now existed. Steve had gotten pretty good at _Smash Brothers_ , but he was still having issues with the minigames in _Mario Party_. As a whole, they chose not to do Trivia games and Steve appreciated not having to feel even more left out of the future than he already did.

 

Board games were harder, if only because as soon as Steve understood the way to play, he tended to dominate the game and win. Most of it was strategy, so it became almost a quest for the others to find a game he was not as good at. Clint had come the closest with a silly game called _Quelf_ which involved all of them being more than a little ridiculous.

 

It took Steve a week to realize that he hadn’t thought of Bucky as much as he used to. He was in the kitchen, grabbing himself a cup of Tony’s coffee when the thought came to him and he stood there, not sure how to feel. Part of living was, well, _living_ , but was he really prepared to do it already? He knew Bucky would just want him to be happy, but Steve thought the only way he could be happy was with his best friend. His first soulmate.

 

“Did the Keurig insult you?”

 

Steve jerked out of his thoughts and turned to see Tony standing in the kitchen doorway, a slight smirk on his face with his arms folded over his chest. For a brief moment, Steve wondered what Tony would have thought about Bucky, and what Bucky would have thought about Tony. The two were both similar and different; part of Steve wondered just how similar.

 

As soon as Steve’s thoughts started picturing how Tony would feel over him, Steve put down the mug of coffee and forced a smile on his face, pushing his dirty thoughts aside. “Just thinking,” he told Tony.

 

“Don’t think too hard. Could hurt yourself, Cap.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes and went back to his room only to realize that he forgot his mug of coffee in the kitchen, too caught up in his thoughts.

 

 

Steve let out a breath before standing and wiping his hands on his sweatpants. The clock on the wall read just past seven in the morning which gave Steve another hour before he would go make breakfast. He had already done his pushups and worked the bag, so he moved to the storage cabinet to grab the jump ropes. He probably didn’t need to do this must of a workout, but it also gave him something to focus on.

 

 _Sir_ , Jarvis said when Steve was halfway through his rope reps. _Miss Romanoff is on her way._

 

Steve just nodded and continued jumping. He gave Natasha a smile as she came in, watching as she flipped through a file. She stopped just out of reach of the ropes.

 

“For us?” Steve asked.

 

“Yep. And the strike team.” She closed the file. “You should get a shower. We’re leaving as soon as you’re ready.”

 

“I need to eat, too.”

 

“I can handle breakfast.” She stepped back toward the door. “Kitchen in ten, Rogers.”

 

He finished his reps and stopped jumping to give her a nod. “Kitchen in ten,” he agreed.

 

A quick shower later and Steve went to the kitchen. She was still turning something over in the pan, so Steve took a pen and doodled on his arm. Nothing in particular, just a bar he remembered going to with the Commandos one night. He only stopped when a plate was set next to him, the eggs and bacon formed into a smiling face.

 

“Thanks, mom,” he said with a laugh. Steve put the pen down so he could drag the plate closer.

 

“The potatoes are almost done.” Natasha leaned across the counter to look over his drawing. “I’ve been there.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Mmhm. About a decade ago, Clint and I hid in the attic while waiting for a target. It smelled stale.”

 

“That smell has been there since the forties.” Since she knew about his correspondence, Steve didn’t even hide when he looked down at his palm to see a message stating that his drawing skills were entirely unfair, but really nice.

 

“We have a long mission,” Natasha told him, pulling back to get the potatoes. “Might want to say something about that.”

 

“I’ll make sure to do that.” Steve took the pen to write a message about an important work trip and that he would be unresponsive for a short time. “Do we know the details?”

 

“Fury is getting the team together to go over them now. Simple rescue op.”

 

“Nothing is simple if they get us involved.” Steve ran his hand over the words that appeared on his arm.

 

_I’ll miss our conversations. Write when you’re back._

 

Steve didn’t even hesitate to answer back.

 

_I’ll miss you, too. Don’t bother your associates too much._

 

“I just need to grab my stuff.”

 

“We’ll have time. I have the jet coming here to pick us up.”

 

“I still can’t believe Tony installed a landing pad for a jet.” Steve ran his thumb over the words still on his arm. “I’m not used to them being able to land like they do yet.”

 

“You’ll catch up soon enough.”

 

“I’m getting there.” And he was, really. Steve knew that every day he was relaxing more and more into this new life. He would probably always feel as if he were playing catch up. “Maybe I should take some classes.”

 

Natasha picked at a few potatoes from Steve’s plate. “You never did graduate.”

 

“I never attended,” Steve corrected. “I’ll look into it when we get back. Think Nick would give me the time off?”

 

“I think your professors would understand if you suddenly had to miss a few days. They could also forward your assignments.” Natasha wiped her hands with a napkin. “Major?”

 

“Is Art too obvious?”

 

“I think that’s your decision,” Natasha said. “What do _you_ want to do?”

 

That was, in the end, the thing that Steve wasn’t sure about. What did he want to do? What was there besides, well, this?

 

“I want to get this meeting over with,” he finally said, changing the subject. “Let’s go. I can eat this stuff on the way”

 

“Sounds like a plan, Rogers.”

 

Steve marched through the corridors of the Triskelion, ignoring when someone called out to him. He needed answers, and there was only one person he wanted them from. Thankfully nobody was in Nick’s office when he opened the door and the man himself looked as if he were expecting him. The desk was clear and the computer had a screensaver gently moving across it. Nick had his hands calmly folded on the desk and the strained smile almost gave Steve pause. Almost.

 

“You want answers,” Nick said before Steve could say anything. “I’m not sure I can give them.”

 

“You don’t think I deserve them? You endangered my team.” Steve stopped in front of Nick’s desk and leaned against it with his hands on the smooth surface. “You withheld information from me that pertained to this mission, and so you could have gotten someone killed.”

 

“Romanoff knew what she was doing, she had the window.”

 

“She was late.”

 

Nick dropped his smile and leaned back in his chair. “You can’t, and shouldn’t, know everything when it comes to these missions, Cap. You’re the first one they’ll try to capture and we can’t risk them getting the information from you.”

 

“Nice try.” He stood straight. “What was this all about? What was she after?”

 

“I’m not sure this is--”

 

“Nick.” Steve crossed his arms, doing his best to look as intimidating as possible. “Tell me, or I walk. I don’t need to be part of something like this. I’m a soldier, not a spy.”

 

“Exactly why Black Widow goes with you.” Nick stood as well. “There are a few people that I don’t trust in S.H.I.E.L.D., that’s all.”

 

“Didn’t realize I made that list.” The thought that Nick didn’t trust him hurt more than Steve wanted to admit. What was there not to trust? What had he done wrong already to cause that kind of reaction in the man who was supposed to lead him?

 

Nick shook his head and turned to the window behind him. “It’s just that I don’t think we’re all on the same side here, Cap. I’ll let you know when I find out for sure.”

 

Steve scoffed and went back toward the door. “I may not answer next time you call,” he warned.

 

“As is your choice.” He turned to stare at Steve, eyes narrowed. “You can be upset with me all you like, but what happened on the mission is not my fault. Romanoff did her job, you did yours.”

 

“It was a precise mission with no room for her side trip,” Steve argued. “We had the operatives cornered, under arrest and being rounded up for questioning when she didn’t come back. I had to leave to find her, which caused a few of them to think they could get away.”

 

“Captain--”

 

“ _Because of that_ , the scene went into chaos and the base ended up exploding. You’re lucky none of our men were still inside.” Steve opened the door and looked back to Nick one last time. “Your lack of insight could have gotten all of us killed, Nick. I hope you understand that.”

 

“More so than you might think,” Nick said, voice low as he turned away again.

 

Steve left, feeling no more confident than when he had arrived. He reached into his pocket and took out the drive Natasha made, debating on if he should turn around and give it to Nick, or find someone else to look at it. Natasha had told him to bring it straight to Nick since he was already on his way, but...

 

He put the drive back in his pocket, decision made. He hadn’t seen Tony in a while and he was sure the genius would love to get his hands on secret intel. With one final look back to Nick’s door, Steve squared his shoulders and left.

 

 

Steve stepped into Tony’s personal elevator, hesitating when he saw the lack of buttons on the wall. However, before he could wonder out loud what to do, it had shifted down and made its way to the R&D level - where Tony was currently working on something with Bruce. He was sure Jarvis had already alerted them both to his arrival, so he didn’t bother knocking on anything as he stepped out.

 

Not that there was anything _to_ knock on - the elevator opened up to what looks like Tony’s own personal play area. Machines lined the walls and a circular table covered in parts and papers rested in the center of the room. Tony sat atop the table with Bruce pacing along the back wall, but both stopped talking and looked up as soon as Steve came into the room.

 

“Cap’s home!” Tony tossed the notebook in his hand onto the table. “Did you kick some ass?”

 

“Some,” Steve agreed. “Did you... invent?”

 

Tony laughed as Bruce’s lips twitched into a small smile. Steve knew how silly his question had sounded, so he didn’t begrudge them their reactions. Steve was glad he had moved into the tower if only for this - it finally felt as if he were coming home to something other than an empty apartment.

 

“Dumb question, but you threw me off track.” Steve reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the drive. “I pulled this off ‘Tasha. Someone in S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t who they say they are and I think that information is on here.”

 

Tony rubbed his hands together, determination on his face. “I’m going to crack this so hard. Can I?”

 

“That’s why I brought it here.” Steve put it on the table, knowing Tony didn’t like to be handed things. “Natasha and Nick don’t know it’s missing yet. Or, well, as of me leaving Nick’s office. I’m not sure how much time we have.”

 

“Speed hacking it is.” Tony grabbed the drive and jumped off the table. “Want to stick around or leave, Brucie Bear?”

 

Bruce glanced between them before shrugging and going back to his own computer. “No idea what you guys are talking about. I just come here and do my work.”

 

Tony wrinkled his nose. “Bruce, I’m still highly offended that you think I’d let S.H.I.E.L.D. do anything to you.”

 

Steve rested a hand on Tony’s back. “Easy, it’s okay.” Tony seemed to press back against Steve’s hand, so Steve left it there for a bit longer. “Let’s just find out what we can.”

 

“As you wish.”

 

It took Steve a moment to recognize the words, but then he was smiling. “I’m no Buttercup.”

 

Tony tilted his head back to grin at Steve before focusing back onto the screen in front of him. Steve wasn’t really sure what the man was doing, but he watched anyway, if only to stay closer.

 

Nearly half an hour later, Tony’s screen flickered and then the lights in the room flickered as well. The three of them froze as a singular face popped up on the screen in front of Steve and Tony - a familiar face despite the pixilation in it. Steve frowned and put his hand on Tony’s shoulder, tightening his hold just a bit.

 

“Zola,” he said, voice low. “What the hell?”

 

“You know this guy?”

 

Steve looked back to Bruce and nodded. “He was the scientist working for Red Skull back in the war. Though I don’t know...”

 

_“Captain Rogers. I see you survived your fall.”_

 

“How is this happening?” Steve had seen plenty of strange things since coming to the future, but something like this? “Tony?”

 

“I don’t know, but he knocked out Jarvis. I’m rebo--”

 

_“I wouldn’t bother, Anthony Edward Stark, son of Howard Anthony Walter Stark. Born May 29, 1970, of Maria Collins Stark, nee Carbonell.”_

 

Tony let out a breath. “Okay... Okay, that’s not cool.”

 

The image on the screen laughed. _“Even your father knew enough not to put me back to work.”_

 

Steve hesitated before moving Tony out of the way. “Why don’t you just tell us what you’re supposed to be.”

 

_“You were always forward, Captain. I am alive because science deemed me worth saving and I have never felt better.”_

 

Tony tried typing in a few things. “This is impossible. Nobody can be--”

 

_“Out of the three people in this room, I expected you to trust in this the most, Stark.”_

 

The doors opened and the three men looked back to see Natasha standing there. She looked around the room before settling her focus on Zola. She frowned.

 

_“Natalia Romanoff, born--”_

 

“So it’s true,” she said, interrupting him. “Fury wasn’t lying.”

 

Steve pointed to the screen. “You know what’s going on?”

 

“Some. We were counting on you coming to Stark to look at this.” She moved further into the room. “Operation Paperclip after World War II had S.H.I.E.L.D. recruiting German--”

 

_“I am Swiss.”_

 

She ignored him and continued, “--scientists who had value to them. Zola was one of the many, though he was supposed to be put through training to get the Hydra brainwashing out of him.”

 

_“Cut off one head, two more shall take its place. I may have looked as if I were helping their cause, but I was furthering my own.”_

 

Bruce crossed his arms. “Prove it,” he said, voice calmer than Steve would have expected.

 

Zola’s screen shifted. _“Accessing archive,”_ he said, flipping through newspaper clippings and news footage. Steve saw an image of the Red Skull, Hitler, and various people he remembered being founding members of S.H.I.E.L.D. _“Hydra was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realize was that if you try to take that freedom, they resist.”_

 

Tony snorted. “No shit.”

 

Footage of Steve, fighting alongside the Commandos and Bucky, came up on screen. _“The war taught us much,”_ Zola continued, ignoring Tony. _“Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. I grew Hydra after the war when S.H.I.E.L.D. recruited me. A beautiful parasite within their ranks, as well as several of the military’s as well. For seventy years, Hydra has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war.”_

 

The video flickered to an empty road.

 

 _“When history did not cooperate,”_ Zola said as a car slammed into a tree, followed by a man on a motorcycle. _“Well, history was changed.”_

 

Tony sucked in a breath. “What the hell...?”

 

Steve frowned as a masked man went to the car and killed the two people inside it before turning and shooting out the camera. The people looked familiar, but whom exactly it was escaped Steve’s memory. He looked back to Tony, but the anger on his friend’s face had to be from more than just Zola. “Tony?”

 

Tony jerked his head away from the screen to look at Steve. “Those were my parents,” he said, voice quiet. “That car was my parent’s car.”

 

Natasha stepped around them and leaned toward the screen. “Changing history? That’s impossible,” she insisted. “S.H.I.E.L.D. would have stopped you.”

 

“ _Accidents happen,”_ Zola said just as a newspaper article came up featuring the death of Howard Stark, confirming what Tony had said. _“Hydra created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security. Your people don’t even trust who leads your country, and once the purification process is complete, Hydra’s new world order will arise.”_

 

“I don’t believe you,” Steve said, putting as much confidence in his voice as he could.

 

“What’s on this drive besides you,” Bruce demanded, fists clenched.

 

_“Project Insight requires... insight. So I wrote an algorithm.”_

 

Tony’s head jerked back toward the screen. “What kind of algorithm?”

 

“What does it do?” Natasha asked.

 

Zola laughed again. _“The answer to your question is fascinating. Unfortunately, I doubt you shall be alive to realize it.”_

 

Bruce reached forward at that point and yanked the drive out of Tony’s computer. “That’s enough of that,” he muttered.

 

“Bruce!”

 

He held a hand up to Tony before handing the drive to Steve. “He wasn’t going to tell us anything else.”

 

Steve closed his hand around the drive. “You don’t know that.”

 

Tony ran a hand over his face and stood, brushing away Steve’s hand. “Sure, maybe about whatever this algorithm is, but that isn’t what I want to know.”

 

“The Winter Soldier,” Natasha said, getting Tony’s attention. “You want to know who killed your parents? That’s what those who believe he exists call him. Most of the intelligence community doesn’t, including S.H.I.E.L.D.”

 

“Which might not mean anything since Fury already thinks someone is pulling strings.”  Steve watched Tony pace. “But now we have proof.”

 

“What else do you know?” Bruce asked.

 

Natasha watched Tony as well before taking a seat. “Not much. From my contacts before S.H.I.E.L.D., he’s credited with more than two-dozen assassinations since the Second World War.”

 

“He looks barely above thirty, though.” Tony motioned toward the drive still in Steve’s hand. “I’d have to look--”

 

“I think we’ve looked enough,” Bruce said gently.

 

“Five years ago,” Natasha continued before Tony could say anything, “I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran and my tires were shot out near Odessa. We lost control, went straight over a cliff. I managed to pull us out, but he was already there.”

 

“The Soldier,” Tony confirmed.

 

Natasha nodded. “I tried to cover my engineer, so he shot right through me.” She rubbed part of her stomach, a frown on her face. “You want to go after him?”

 

“Damn right I do.”

 

“Going after him is a dead end, Stark. He’s a ghost story.” Natasha stood again. “But if you need back up...”

 

“I’ll go, too.” Steve held out the drive toward Tony. “We’re a team, right?”

 

Tony smiled, shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, yeah we are. What about you, big guy?”

 

Bruce held up his hands. “Oh no, I don’t think this is something for the Hulk or myself. But I’ll stay here and be available if you need me.”

 

Tony took the drive. “Let’s go find ourselves a ghost, then.”

 

 

Steve leaned over the back of Tony’s chair on the jet, watching as the clouds moved passed them. Or at least, that’s what he would tell anyone if they were to ask. Mostly he was staring at his blank arm, wondering what his palm-pal was really thinking of his sudden “business trip.” The original answer had been a quick _I’m sure I’ll find something to occupy my time with_ before Steve erased his message. His palm-pal’s message erased shortly before Tony came in to let him know the jet was ready for their long trip to London.

 

“You think doing this is stupid?” Tony asked, breaking through Steve’s thoughts.

 

Steve let out a breath before moving into the empty co-pilot’s seat; Natasha was taking a quick rest in the back. “I understand your reasoning for wanting to do this.”

 

“That didn’t answer the question, Cap.”

 

Steve smiled a little and leaned back in the chair. “If it were Bucky in that car, I would be doing the same thing. Instead of a ghost, I went after a tyrant.”

 

Tony let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “Your soulmate.”

 

He stared at his empty arm again. “Yes.”

 

Tony’s hand rested over Steve’s arm and Steve followed it up until he met Tony’s eyes. “You want to talk about it?” he asked, surprising Steve. “Has anyone ever asked you that?”

 

“A S.H.I.E.L.D. psych was signed up to, I think.” Steve put his own hand over Tony’s. “I’m not sure how to talk about it, though.”

 

“I could sign you up for a dating site. They’re all the rage right now.”

 

Steve stared at Tony for a moment before laughing. “God, Tony, _no_. No, I don’t want to do that.”

 

The billionaire smiled, squeezing Steve’s hand once before letting go. “Just making sure.”

 

“I think...”

 

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Hm?”

 

A slight flush stole across Steve’s face. “I think I may have found someone.”

 

“What? Already?”

 

“I’m ninety-five, not dead.” Steve looked back out over the clouds. “I’m not sure, yet.”

 

“Tell me about her? Or him?”

 

Steve looked back at Natasha before shaking his head. “I wish I could, but I’ve never met them.”

 

Tony’s eyes flickered down to Steve’s arm before focusing back on the skies. “There have been reports of people who get another soulmate after their first...”

 

“Really?”

 

“Research has come a long way since the forties, yeah.”

 

Steve looked down at his arm, frowning at the empty space that stared back at him. “I just... it feels wrong somehow.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it hasn’t even been a year.”

 

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again. He shook his head before scratching at his own arm. “Sorry, sometimes I think we all forget about that. For us it’s been decades, but for you...”

 

“It’s okay, it’s just going to take time.” Steve let out a breath. “But this is a good start. I can at least try to meet them, you know? My mom never got to meet hers and I got lucky with Bucky... Now that I have better resources behind me, meeting this one shouldn’t be too hard.”

 

“Unless they work for Hydra.”

 

Steve snorted. “If they work for Hydra, they’re hardly my soulmate.”

 

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know, I heard they have an extensive incentives package.” He leaned back toward a console behind them. “While you took a cat nap, Natasha and I took a look at some of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s more hidden files. Sure enough, we found bits of the snake in here. Now that we know what to look for, it was obvious.”

 

Steve got out of the chair to lean over the console. All he saw was a list of names in alphabetical order with a number (an age, he figured) next to it. Most were minors, but there were some higher numbers there. “What is this?”

 

“Their incentives package. You work and do exactly as they say, they don’t kill whoever is on that list.”

 

Steve jerked back, anger burning through him. “ _What_?”

 

Tony’s frown deepened. “We weren’t happy about it, either. Natasha had a way to send it to Fury undetected, so we did.”

 

Steve scrolled through a few more names. “What else did you find?”

 

“Not sure you want to know, honestly.”

 

Something in Steve’s voice made him look to his friend. “Tony...”

 

“We need to have a talk with him when we get back. There’s a lot of secrets that man is hiding from us and if we’re supposed to operate as a team, it has to end.” He looked back to Steve, a forced smile on his face. “One fight at a time, Cap.”

 

Steve desperately wanted to know what Tony and Natasha were hiding, but he also knew when to fight and when to stand back. This was about finding the Winter Soldier and taking him down, not planning all their fights at once. They could focus on what Nick was or wasn’t hiding from the team when they got back to New York.

 

 

Finding the soldier had probably been the easiest thing on their mission. Further intelligence indicated that he may just be another pawn of Hydra, brainwashed from the beginning to do their bidding. That hadn’t stopped Tony from wanting to put a bullet into the guy’s head, and Steve wasn’t completely sure he wanted to stop Tony from doing so. This soldier had killed a friend of his - had killed Howard and his wife. Steve didn’t want to go all that easy on him in the first place.

 

That changed the moment both his and the Soldier’s mask came off in the middle of their fight and Steve saw just who the Winter Soldier was. He had frozen in place and if it weren’t for Tony knocking the Soldier out of the way, Steve would have taken a knife to the throat.

 

The Soldier had taken a look at him, his face contorted into confusion, and then he was gone, leaving the three of them alone in an abandoned factory. Tony took one look at Steve before he popped open the helmet and suggested they all get back to the jet.

 

Steve followed without too much help, his thoughts warring between anger at himself and disbelief. But it wasn’t until they were up in the air, Jarvis guiding them back home, that Tony sat beside him.

 

“What happened, Cap?” he asked softly. “We went there for a purpose and you just... froze.”

 

Steve closed his eyes and rested his elbows on his knees. “Bucky,” was all he said; Tony took in a sharp breath beside him.

 

“Are you sure?” Natasha asked. “Steve, he--”

 

“I’m sure.” He rubbed at his eyes. “You don’t just forget someone like Bucky.”

 

Natasha moved to the console in the jet. “Let me take a look through Hydra’s files again.”

 

“What’s there that we haven’t gone through already?” Steve dropped his head into his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning to Tony. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

 

“Stop.” Tony put a hand on Steve’s back. “No offense, but I really don’t want to talk about this.”

 

Steve tensed, but he understood. The Soldier killed Tony’s parents - just because he was also Steve’s best friend and soulmate didn’t mean he was automatically forgiven. That took time, and probably a lot more patience than Tony was willing to give right now. So he swallowed his turmoil and nodded at Tony. They would go back to the tower to regroup, then hunt the Soldier down again.

 

This time, maybe, Steve wouldn’t freeze. And maybe, given enough time, Steve could convince Tony to take Bucky alive. Maybe there was a way to help him and let Tony get his revenge. Maybe they could break whatever programing Natasha thinks he had. Maybe Bucky would look at him and remember instead of giving him the blank, cold stare.

 

Maybe, maybe, _maybe_. Steve hated maybe.

 

“How’s your arm?” Steve asked, changing the subject as requested. The Soldier had almost torn through the suit with his metal arm.

 

“Just bruised.” Tony rubbed at his left wrist, where the worst of the damage happened. “Won’t heal as fast as your black eye, but it’ll get there. You good, Romanoff?”

 

“Minimal injuries. You boys took the brunt of it.”

 

“I think you let that happen,” Tony accused. He stood and went to the front of the jet. “Let me know if you found where he went.”

 

Natasha’s fingers hesitated over the keys. “I’m not--”

 

“Thanks, you’re my favorite.”

 

Steve watched Tony settle in the pilot seat before he got up and sat next to Natasha. Sure enough, she wasn’t looking to where the Soldier, where Bucky, went, but more where he has been. A confirmation of sorts, he supposed. Steve gave her a strained smile and leaned against her, feeling as if he were small and weak again. She let him, easily holding his weight, and went back to her searching.

 

Steve’s left arm itched, but at least now he knew the real reason it wasn’t Bucky who had answered him back. And if they could get through to him, to get Bucky _back_ , then...

 

Then what? He ignores the other person that’s been keeping him company and answering his messages? He gives up something else that’s good for him? He breaks a new soulmate’s heart?

 

Natasha reached over and rested a hand over Steve’s, and that was when he realized he had been scratching at his arm. He let out a breath and took her hand, squeezing it gently.

 

“One day at a time,” she murmured. “One problem at a time.”

 

Steve closed his eyes, and the rest of the flight back to New York stayed uncomfortably quiet.

 

 

Steve’s room in the tower was calm and part of him hated it. He could see outside the window to the city below and all he wanted to do was hear the cars drive by, honking or whatever other noise they wanted to make. He knew he could ask Jarvis, but Steve wasn’t sure how to form words at the moment. His mind was rolling through the possibilities for how Bucky survived. How did Hydra find him? Were they still connected? Did it even matter?

 

He looked down at his left arm, the blank skin almost mocking him. He hadn’t heard anything from his palm pal in some time, though it wasn’t like he had started a conversation either. However, the other person deserved to know because in the end, Steve knew he would always choose Bucky. He reached forward and grabbed a pen from the holder. He hesitated before pressing the pen against his palm, hoping that saying this wasn’t crossing some line.

 

_My best friend accidentally killed another close friend’s parents._

 

He stared at the ink, trying to swallow the bile that wanted to rise in his throat. It wasn’t Bucky that did this, it wasn’t, but it was. Bucky had taken out the Starks under brainwashing and orders, and Steve wasn’t sure how to handle Tony or any of this. So he wrote it on his hand, hoping that it would give him some form of solace, some ease in his heart.

 

It didn’t.

 

Steve tossed the pen on the table before getting up to take a shower in the overly large bathroom, feeling closed in and trapped as the water poured over his body despite the size. He scrubbed the words from his hands, praying that his supposed new soulmate didn’t read them.

 

_How does that even happen?_

 

The words appeared before Steve had a chance to fully get rid of his confession and he had to hold back the urge to put his fist through the shower tile. He hadn’t meant for it to be seen, for the person on the other side to see or read it. No going back now.  Steve shut the water off and rubbed his skin red while trying to get dry.

 

He didn’t bother getting dressed and just wrapped the towel around his waist. He sat back at the table and stared at the pen before taking hold of it again.

 

_Brainwashed. Long story, not really his fault._

 

It was probably how he should approach it with Tony, too. Sit him down, explain everything he knew about who Bucky was, and pray it wouldn’t ruin the team. Pray it wouldn’t ruin _them_. It would have to happen soon, but Steve also just didn’t want to deal with it. Bucky would call him a coward.

 

 _Sounds like something from a bad movie_.

 

Steve stared at the words on his wrist before figuring that they weren’t wrong. Sometimes he wondered what they would do if they tried to make some kind of historical documentary of his life. Would they even include the soulmate situation?

 

_Feels like it. He doesn’t have a left arm so he can’t read this._

 

_He’s your soulmate, too?_

 

Steve hesitated at the question, realizing how it must seem for the other person. Waiting so long for Steve to come out of the ice, then read this? He knew they came a long way in understanding how this all worked, but he personally hadn’t had time to really look into it. Did people have more than one? If they did, what happened?

 

_He was. Not sure if he still is._

 

That was the best answer Steve had at this point. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to test it.

 

_Not that it’s a parental competition, but I just found out something about my parents I didn’t know before. Life sucks, right?_

 

Steve couldn’t disagree with that statement. He wasn’t sure if his life could even be considered real if he weren’t still alive to prove that Captain America wasn’t just some made-up superhero to defeat the Nazis. He sighed and looked over to a framed picture of the team in Central Park, a candid shot of them gathered around and looking genuinely happy. It had been right before Loki was brought out to go home, so Steve figured they had been happy, just shy of well-rested and possibly drunk for some of them. They had survived an alien invasion; knowledge of the past should be easy.

 

_One day at a time. One problem at a time._

 

He wasn’t sure if Natasha’s words would help his palm-pal, but he hoped they would. They calmed him well enough.

 

_Yeah... Still hurts like a bitch, though._

 

 _I know, but better to face it than run._ Steve stared at the words before realizing that yes, he had to do this. _I need to test something._

 

The previous message that was written never disappeared, even as the _Go ahead_ showed up. Steve stared at the declaration of pain, understanding that what he was doing would definitely hurt, but he had to. He took the pen in his left hand before pressing it against his right arm.

 

_Buck? I’m still with you, pal._

 

He dropped the pen and then rubbed his face, letting out a long breath. Now he just had to wait.

  

 

“ _Target stationery_ ,” Clint said in Steve’s ear. “ _Second floor near the Westside._ ”

 

Steve just nodded, since he knew Clint had eyes on him as well. This was a mission he took without Tony’s help, though he knew the man was only agreeing to stay behind to do further research into Zola and Hydra. Since Steve was still avoiding the talk about Bucky, this was fine with him. Natasha stayed behind to research as well, so Clint stepped in to watch Steve’s six.

 

The only words that showed up on his skin were on his left arm from his palm-pal, asking if he had heard anything yet. Steve’s only answer had been no. There wasn’t a lot to talk about other than that it seemed, but Steve wasn’t quite sure what to say to the person he all but said wasn’t as good as his original soulmate, he welcomed the silence.

 

“ _He isn’t moving, but I’m sure he knows you’re here_ ,” Clint said, interrupting Steve’s thoughts. “ _Heat source by the target just went out_.”

 

Which meant Bucky was going to fight or run. Steve didn’t take any chances and ran into the building, taking the stairs two at a time. The second floor had better access to scouting positions, so it made sense that Bucky would be up there. When Clint didn’t correct him, Steve figured he chose right.

 

“ _Coming at you_ ,” was all the warning Steve got before a brick came at him. He ducked under his shield, grunting a bit as a second brick hit the edge.

 

“Are we school-yard boys again?” he asked. “Come on, Buck, you think I haven’t been hit with worse?”

 

The answer to that was apparently a metal fist coming down onto his shield. Steve pushed against it, trying to get himself further into the room so they would be more on even ground. It wasn’t working that well and he strained against the force pushing against his shield. The Soldier said something in Russian as they stood there and despite being unable to recognize the words, a shiver ran down Steve’s back at the voice. Eventually, they both stumbled back, away from each other, and Steve lowered the shield enough to stare right into Bucky’s familiar face.

 

“It’s me,” he said. “You gonna let a little brainwashing take away what we had? Really?”

 

The Soldier scowled, fists clenching. “Not my mission,” he said. “Not yet.”

 

Steve dared to step closer. “You’re my soulmate, Buck. They can’t take that away from us, not ever.”

 

Bucky covered a spot on his right forearm, the exact spot Steve had left a message, and that was all he needed to see to know. They were still connected, still together, and Hydra could never take that. Steve stepped closer and held out a hand.

 

“Come home,” he begged, voice cracking. “I want you to come home. _We_ want you to come home.”

 

Steve could almost see the fight or flight debate on Bucky’s face and his heart ached. This was never a possibility in his mind when they originally found each other. He was going to have Bucky forever, he was sure of it. They were going to grow old, sit on a porch and watch the sunsets while they talked about simpler times. Bucky was going to rub Steve’s sore muscles, and Steve was going to spoil Bucky with sci-fi novels that he insisted were the voices of the future.

 

Steve could see all of those dreams of the future disappear as the Soldier shook his head, putting distance between them one step at a time.

 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

 

“Bucky, _please_.”

 

With movements faster than Steve was expecting, the Soldier grabbed a knife from his belt. Steve put the shield in front of him, closing his eyes and hoping that he hadn’t reacted too late. He waited for either pain or the _ding_ from the throw, but neither came. He opened his eyes to see words forming on the back of his right hand - the same hand he had seen Bucky grab the knife with.

 

_Bucky, if you can see this, there are two people waiting for you._

 

Steve looked over the top of his shield to see Bucky staring at his own right hand, knife still in it. Sure enough, the words were there, in the same spot, and Steve felt his chest tighten. This confirmed everything. He and Bucky had another soulmate, another person to cherish them. Steve could have both his palm-pal and Bucky. They could help Bucky cope with the future and whatever Hydra did to his mind. Steve wasn’t alone.

 

“Come home,” he said again, keeping his voice soft. “Buck, _please_.”

 

Bucky’s answer was to actually throw the knife at him; it hit the shield and bounced off into the wall. When Steve lowered his shield again, the Soldier was gone.

 

“ _Cap_?”

 

Steve let out a breath. “Abort mission,” he told Clint. “We need to rethink this.”

 

“ _Your call, Cap. Anything else you need_?”

 

“Yeah.” Steve shouldered his shield and took one last look around the room. “I need a pen.”

 

  

The new SHIELD training facility set up was closer than the tower, so that’s where Clint and Steve decided to stop and regroup. Natasha disappeared with Clint as soon as they landed, and Steve was left with Tony to let him know how the mission went. Steve explained the important details, Tony nodded through most of it, and in the end, Steve just felt awkward. He missed the easy feeling they had and he knew that Bucky coming back is what put the wedge there, but he wasn’t sure if the wedge was put there by Tony or himself.

 

Steve stopped their slow walk around the complex on the second-floor balcony that overlooked the grassy training fields. Tony didn’t seem to mind and he stood next to Steve, watching over the different groups with his hands in his pockets and a frown on his face.

 

“They won’t stop staring at you,” Tony pointed out - Steve was glad for the change in conversation topic. “You sure you want to help train them if they can’t focus?”

 

“I’m not training them, Natasha is.” Steve gave Tony a small smile. “I figured it would be better because she can definitely get them to pay attention.”

 

“They don’t know that yet, do they.”

 

“Not yet.”

 

Tony barked out a laugh. “Of course they don’t. Where have you been all my life, Cap?”

 

Steve wanted to tease right back about being in the ice, but something in Tony’s tone made him pause. It was wistful, almost longing. He looked away from his friend and decided to watch as one of the trainees struggled to get over the rope wall instead.

 

“What’s your next plan?” Tony asked, thankfully not pointing out that Steve hadn’t responded to his earlier question. “Going after him again? Letting someone else do it?”

 

“Tony...”

 

“I get why you left me behind. Let me get over what happened and my anger about it.”

 

Steve hunched his shoulders, feeling guilty and trying to convince himself that if he didn’t tell Tony now about Bucky, he was never going to tell the man. Probably ever. There was just something about disappointing him that Steve didn’t want to do. Explaining the complexities behind his best friend and what happened was definitely going to cause issues. He let out a sigh and turned to face Tony, glad that they were at least alone on this stretch of the balcony.

 

“Tony, there’s something we need to talk about,” he said, trying not to sound as small as he felt. “About… about all of this.”

 

Tony looked down at his feet before he took his right hand out of his pocket and held it up for Steve to see. There, on his palm, was the message he had written for Bucky on the quinjet, plain and clear in the only color ink Clint had on him at the time - red. Steve sucked in a breath as he realized just what this meant, realized how much he had shared with who he thought was a stranger.

 

Steve opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come, so he shut it again.

 

“I spent a long time wondering if I was cursed,” Tony said, filling the silence. “My mom would talk about soulmates, and my dad would scoff at them. They weren’t for Stark men, he would say. No other men in my family had a soulmate that I knew about.” He looked to Steve. “But I could _feel_ you, I swore that I could even if I didn’t know it was you. Or Barnes, I guess. But... But imagine my surprise when I woke up one morning with words on my arm. Not only that, but they specifically said ‘ _I miss you’_.”

 

“I had no idea,” Steve told him honestly. “Multiple soulmates just didn’t exist. At least, they weren’t public.”

 

“You always had to be special, Cap.”

 

Steve looked at his own right hand, watching it shake. “Your words were on him,” he said softly. “When he left during the mission, it was because your words showed up on our hands. He... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that he...”

 

“It’s okay, Cap.” Tony turned to put his right hand on Steve’s left shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Not really his fault, right?” He turned back to the recruits. “When the files were dumped, I went through them to really confirm, though I already knew it from the start. I wasn’t sure if you knew it was me, or if I should even admit it. Then Bucky came back and you wanted to talk to him...” He hesitated. “I figured you didn’t need to know who I was because you still had him. Didn’t want to make you choose him over me.”

 

Steve flushed and took a large interest in how his shoes looked. “What Buck and I had might have been accepted in big cities, but not the military. Distracted us from the war, apparently, to have someone like that waiting for you. But if I couldn’t know who he was? Tony, that would have killed me. It _did_ kill me a little to not know it was you.”

 

“They cleaned the marks off you when you came out of the ice.” Tony leaned against the railing, not acknowledging Steve’s words. “Claimed they didn’t want to upset you, which I thought was rightly stupid. If it were me, the marks would be the only thing keeping me grounded.”

 

Steve swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Sometimes they are,” he admitted. “Your words now, though. You keep me grounded.”

 

“But not originally.” Tony looked away from him. “It’s okay if you want to get him alone. I understand and I won’t get in the way.”

 

Steve took in Tony’s hunched posture, shoulders up high and the attempt to hide his face as much as possible. As if he were expecting Steve to reject him in favor of Bucky. Which, of course, Steve probably would, but who said he had to? Steve leaned on the railing next to Tony and reached over to take his right hand gently.

 

“Both of our messages showed up, but I need to find Bucky for reasons beyond the connection. What was done to him wasn’t right and he should be saved.”

 

“I could--”

 

“And I need _you_ for more reasons than the fact that your scratchy penmanship shows up on my skin.” Steve attempted a smile, glad to see that Tony was now more shocked than upset. He leaned closer to him. “Tony, I’m not leaving you behind. Come help me.”

 

Tony scoffed. “Come on, he would never want--”

 

“Stop.” Steve stood up, pulling Tony to stand as well so he could take both Tony’s hands in his own. “Buck loved science fiction. He’s the one who dragged me to Howard’s show with the flying car. The show that eventually led me here, so really, this is all his fault. You show him one futuristic gizmo--”

 

“Gizmo, Cap?” Finally, a small smile.

 

“Shut up. You show him one futuristic gizmo and he’s attached. I promise.”

 

Tony looked down at their hands. “What if..?”

 

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Steve repeated, mind completely made up now. “Not again. I’m selfish like that.”

 

Tony was trying not to smile and somehow Steve found that endearing. He let go of their hands to reach inside his pocket before holding up a pen to Steve. “Trust me?”

 

“Always,” Steve told him, no hesitation. Part of him wondered if he should be panicking a bit more at having two male soulmates, but it felt too right for Steve to even begin questioning.

 

Tony took Steve’s right arm and ran his thumb over the bare skin before pressing the pen against it. Steve felt his heart constrict in his chest as he watched the words appear.

 

_Come home, Bucky. Love - Steve and Tony_

 

“Not sure he’ll really know either of us, but...”

 

“It’s perfect,” Steve insisted. “We’ll just have to keep writing to him.”

 

“You think he’ll ever answer us back?”

 

Steve ran his fingers across Tony’s cheek, heart tight in his chest. “One day.”

 

Tony huffed out a laugh, leading into the hand. “Keep doing this and I’m going to kiss you. Scandalize all these poor kids watching us.”

 

Kissing Tony hadn’t actually crossed Steve’s mind until the man had said it, but now all he wanted to do was taste him, see what it felt like to kiss his palm-pal, his _soulmate._ So he did. Steve tilted Tony’s chin slightly so he could lean over and press their lips together, ever so softly. A shiver ran down his back as Tony’s hand came up to rest on his hip, his thumb stroking just so against the fabric of his shirt.

 

Steve didn’t go far when he broke the kiss, but he did notice that at some point he had crowded Tony up against the glass, pressing into him. He smiled, unable to help himself, and let himself feel joy for the first time since that stupid train in 1944.

 

“I could do that forever,” Tony said, voice breathless. “I mean, if you’re open to that kind of thing.”

 

“Hm.” Steve ran his thumb across Tony’s bottom lip. “I have no objections besides the obvious.”

 

Tony opened his eyes to look at him. “Barnes?”

 

Steve nodded, finally stepping back. “He’s going to feel guilty about what he did. I need to be sure you’re willing to work through this with him.”

 

Tony stuffed his hands back in his pockets. “I won’t lie to you. It won’t be easy.”

 

“I don’t expect it to be.”

 

“But,” Tony continued, “guns don’t kill people. Someone has to be the one pulling that trigger. We find that person, we find who really did this.”

 

Steve stood straighter, shoulders back and body ready for whatever fight was coming. “I was always good at hide and seek.”

 

Tony gave him a smirk. “That doesn’t surprise me. Shall we get the rest of the team?”

 

“Might as well.” Steve took a step backward toward the elevators. “I think Clint said they’d be in the computer room. Basement, right?”

 

“I’ll get Jarvis working on finding our Soldier first, then we’ll dig deeper into who could be controlling him.” Tony followed him. “Can I ask something?”

 

Steve hit the button to bring the elevator. “Tony, you can always ask me anything. We’re friends before anything else, right?” He reached forward as he saw Tony’s face close off, berating himself for his choice of words. “Hey, don’t look like that.”

 

“Don’t look like what?”

 

Steve tilted Tony’s chin up before pulling the shorter man completely against him. “I meant that we were close before we found out just _how_ close we were. What is it you wanted to ask me?”

 

Tony rested a hand on Steve’s chest, fingers curling a bit into his shirt. Steve wondered, briefly, if Tony could hear just how loud his heart was beating. He had always touched Bucky beyond a simple pat on the back, even before they knew, so he didn’t remember having this feeling envelop him before. A surge of harsh protectiveness mixed with calm adoration was new and Steve liked it. Tony didn’t necessarily need his protection, sure, but Steve saw the guarded way Tony held himself around everybody and he hoped this would help ease that.

 

“Tony...”

 

Tony let out a huff and pushed Steve into the elevator as it opened. “Now I feel ridiculous asking it since your display out there.”

 

Steve smiled, letting his back hit the wall of the elevator, Tony still held against him. “Since when do you feel ridiculous asking anything? Computer Lab, please.”

 

The elevator let out a confirmation message before the doors closed them inside. Steve let his hand trail down Tony’s back. They would have to explore another later, while in a more private area, because Steve wanted to know Tony just as intimately as he already knew Bucky. He wanted to fill his notebooks full of both of them - their smiles and brooding looks. Steve couldn’t wait to get them both in Tony’s lab because he was sure Bucky would be in heaven.

 

Tony still hadn’t answered his question and Steve frowned, tilting his chin up again. “Talk to me.”

 

“You really want to be open about this?” Tony blurted out, a hint of pink on his cheeks. “I’m not exactly known as the most stable of guys. Pepper’s going to already have a field day when I confirm it’s you because we have to file it with the board. And _they’re_ going to want to talk to you over me because they’ll think you have more control. Not that I want you to talk to them, no offense. Not to mention we have to also file Barnes and right now he’s probably the most wanted man in the world even if nobody knows they’re looking for him. _And_ I don’t--”

 

“Stop.” Steve arched an eyebrow as Tony’s tirade trailed off at the request. “We have time to worry about the rest of the details, but as far as telling the team? I’d like to. If you’re okay with that.”

 

“Why wouldn’t I be? Except for the fact that I owe Bruce fifty bucks.”

 

“You made a bet?”

 

“I think he cheated,” Tony said wrinkling his nose. “He made it as we went to go bring Loki back to Asgard.”

 

“That fast...?”

 

Tony shrugged, taking a step back as the elevator slowed. “He won’t tell... Maybe he can _smell_ it.”

 

Steve laughed at the look that came over Tony’s face. He wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulders and led him out of the elevator. “Ask him when we get home.”

 

Steve kissed Tony’s temple, sure the man didn’t even notice since he had the look on his face that meant he was already lost in his thoughts. He opened the lab door and let Tony go inside first - Natasha and Clint were near the center as it had the better computer and Tony immediately went in their direction. Clint looked up from where he stood over Natasha’s shoulder and gave them a nod.

 

“Haven’t found much yet. I told ‘Tasha exactly what we found and she’s been looking through older databases, but...”

 

Tony waved him off. “I’ll get on it. I want to not just know where he is or where he might be going, but who’s calling the shots.”

 

Clint hesitated. “That might not be as easy to find.”

 

“Maybe.” Tony rubbed at his stubble before leaning against the side of the desk, putting himself more in Natasha’s peripheral. “Does S.H.I.E.L.D. think you’re loyal to them, or specifically to Fury?”

 

Her fingers stilled on the keyboard as she leaned back. “What do you have in mind?”

 

“You want to lure out who Nick thinks is untrustworthy,” Steve said. “Right?”

 

“Bingo.”

 

“That’s going to mean a fallout,” Clint warned. “Not just with her and Fury, but with us as well.”

 

“So she’s loyal to Nick.” Steve pulled up a chair for both himself and Tony. He motioned for the man to sit before taking a seat himself. “We’ll need a way to communicate.”

 

“That can be arranged.” Natasha glanced to Clint, who shrugged and motioned something toward her with his hands. Natasha responded with something else before standing. “We’ll need to cause some kind of scene. It has to be public or they won’t approach me.”

 

“But not too big of a scene or they’ll know it’s fake.” Clint pulled his own seat around so he could sit in it backwards. “Leave it to us to start it. Just act shocked or not shocked, whatever. Betrayed might work for you, Cap, but for Stark...?”

 

“I’ll handle my own emotions.”

 

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

 

“He’ll handle it,” Steve told Clint. “Just don’t tell us when you’re going to do... whatever it is you’re doing.”

 

“Can do, Cap.” Clint drummed on the back of the chair. “So besides that, what’s next?”

 

Steve shrugged, not really sure what to do until they got more information, but that was a given. “We continue writing to him. See if something comes of it.”

 

“If he has handlers, they can probably read everything we’re saying,” Tony pointed out. “Maybe I shouldn’t have...”

 

“No, putting our names is probably better. Especially if Natasha is breaking from us.”

 

Natasha looked specifically at Steve. “Our names, Steve?”

 

Steve turned his arm to show her the words Tony wrote there. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know. Or at least have an idea.”

 

She looked to Tony and gently reached out to take his right arm, turning it to see the words there as well. “You’re good at hiding it, Stark, but you do realize I studied you so I could infiltrate you before.”

 

“And you never let me forget.” Tony took his arm back. “Is the only person surprised by this Steve?”

 

“To be fair, Cap’s had other things on his mind.” Clint leaned back and grabbed a few pens from the table before handing them to Steve. “Here, make sure you keep one on you from now on. Never know if he’ll try to send you a message.”

 

Steve gave one of the pens to Tony. “Thanks. And Natasha, just let us know if you have any information. We’ll try to find him the old fashion way as well.”

 

She nodded and stood before resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Good luck, Steve. We’ll figure this out.”

 

“You too, Natasha.” Steve squeezed her hand and let her go. “I think it’s time I get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

 

Tony looked at his watch. “For you, yeah. Want to go back to the tower or...?”

 

Steve hesitated. He wanted nothing more than to go back home, but at this point, it would be another trip in the quinjet. Potentially one where Tony would join him, and he wasn’t at all sure that it would include actual resting - and not just because the jets were not made with beds.

 

“Cap?”

 

He looked up at Tony and gave him a smile. “Debating on whether or not I actually wanted to sleep in the chairs on the jet. Mind if we head back in a few hours? Get some shut-eye here?”

 

Tony returned the smile. “Sounds good.”

 

Clint groaned, dropping his head onto the back of his chair. “God, just go get a room already.”

 

“We plan on it,” Steve said, glad when that pulled a bark of laughter out of Tony and another groan from Clint. He may seem innocent, but he had his moments. “I’ll catch you two, later.”

 

Tony took Steve’s hand and placed a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Have a good rest. I’m going to stay here and keep looking if you don’t mind?”

 

“It’s fine,” Steve told him, though he wasn’t entirely sure he was being truthful. “Good luck.”

 

Later, once Steve had showered and re-wrote the message on his arm, he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, unable to close his eyes. Eventually, he rolled over and grabbed the pen Clint had given him. He pressed it against his left arm, a twinge of guilt running through his system since Bucky wouldn’t see this particular message, and sent off his request.

 

_Can’t sleep. Come to bed?_

 

It wasn’t long before the door opened and Tony crawled into bed next to him, neither saying a word. Steve pulled Tony close, relaxing as soon as they were pressed together. Soon enough, they were both asleep on the uncomfortable, small bed.

 

 

Natasha’s break was subtle for regular Agents, but it hit Steve in the gut. While she spoke to the team often, she pulled herself further and further away every day. Steve didn’t even realize she was doing it until Bruce made her a plate for dinner and it was still there the next morning. Steve remembered looking at it, unable to comprehend _why_ it was there for a long time until he looked up to see Clint watching him, blank look on his face.

 

Her things were removed from the apartment the next day, and rumors among the Agents of an argument with Fury circulated. Steve didn’t need to act upset to actually feel the way; most of them whispered about double agents and the KBG until they realized he was in the room. This wasn’t how he wanted their false fallout to go, but he understood it.

 

It wasn’t long after for a packet to end up in the tower filled with files on dirty agents. Tony had spread them across the kitchen table, letting Jarvis scan them into Tony’s private server. That completed, Clint used them for a s’mores fire and they ate far too many of them as they went over the files.  In the end, there was only one connection, but it was one Steve didn’t quite want to believe.

 

“They all work directly for Pierce,” he said breaking off another piece of chocolate. “I wasn’t sure how this fake fight with Natasha was going to go, but she’s good.”

 

“Yeah, Nat and I have been wondering for a while if they would try to recruit her again,” Clint said. “Guess we have our answer.”

 

“Don’t you work for Pierce as well?” Tony asked before popping a marshmallow in his mouth.

 

“Yes, but I answer to Nick first.” Steve licked the chocolate off his fingers (not blind to how Tony followed his tongue). “Jarvis, can you make a graph or something that connects these guys as I say? With Pierce at the top?”

 

“ _Of course, Captain._ ”

 

Steve nodded and listed off the names of the people in the file and who they directly worked for. After a few were mentioned, Clint stood and walked closer to the hologram where Jarvis was making the diagram, eyes wide. Even Tony sat up straighter.

 

“Are there any others that weren’t in the files that work directly for any of these people?” he asked, wiping his hands on his pants. “I mean, there has to be.”

 

“Sure,” Clint said, “but if they weren’t in the files, then they aren’t confirmed as dirty.”

 

Steve reached out to touch a name. “He leads my Strike Team when I’m not on it.” He frowned, trying to recall if Rumlow said anything to him that could indicate he wasn’t loyal. “Jesus...”

 

“This is a start, but we need more. Jarvis, let’s go through our backdoor in S.H.I.E.L.D., see if we can hack into their security information.”

 

Steve looked toward Tony. “I’m sorry, what?”

 

“Don’t act surprised,” Clint told him before making another s’more. “Of course he’d have his own door.”

 

Tony grabbed a graham cracker before swiping at the table to bring up one of his (many) computer screens. Steve didn’t even pretend to know how he did all this, but he couldn’t wait for Bucky to see it. Tony would love showing off, and Bucky would love learning -- and Steve would love watching them. One day, they would be happy together. He would make sure of it.

 

“So we find out if they’ve been meeting anywhere in the building,” Tony said. “Trace key cards or cameras. Since they’re all in S.H.I.E.L.D., it’s feasible that they’d have a meeting room there, but who knows with villains, right? Maybe Natasha will find it for us next.”

 

“Or we find it first.” Steve leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate this waiting.”

 

“We all do,” Clint agreed. “I’m going to go see if Banner’s done with that chemical nonsense and if he wants any of these before we eat them all.”

 

Steve waited until Clint was past them before he moved his leg, nestling it behind Tony on the couch. Tony shot him a quick smile before continuing with his typing and swiping on the screen. Steve didn’t dare disturb him, not when they were so close, but he still wanted to touch him somehow. They hadn’t done anything besides sleep next to each other at night, small kisses shared when they woke up and went to sleep. Something about going further without Bucky just felt _wrong_.

 

“Nervous?” Steve asked.

 

“A little,” Tony admitted. “You?”

 

Steve sat up and rested his forehead on Tony’s shoulder, letting out a breath. “A little.”

 

Tony pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Steve’s hair. Neither of them saw Clint or Bruce, and Steve was silently thankful that they didn’t come back. He enjoyed the silence with Tony.

 

 

When the location of the secret meeting room, and also where they kept Bucky, came out, Steve felt a rush of both shame and anger run through him. Shame that he didn’t see it, and anger that Alexander Pierce would keep his _soulmate_ that close to him. He hadn’t even waited for Jarvis to finish reading the report before he had turned and left the living room. His suit was in the closet, after all, and he had to get dressed.

 

The damned _basement_ where the older, yellowing files were stored. The rows upon rows of cabinets that Steve had never even thought about even though that’s all he knew before he got to the future. He felt like an idiot - he felt _played_. It was no secret in S.H.I.E.L.D. of who his soulmate was ( _still is_ ), so Pierce knew exactly who he had.

 

Steve wondered, as he pulled the suit on over his calves, why Pierce didn’t just use the information against him.

 

“How do you want to handle this?”

 

Steve looked up from the inner buttons of his suit to look at Tony. The genius leaned against the doorway in a casual pose, but Steve could see the tension in his shoulders and the anger in his eyes. He had to think without letting his own anger get in the way - Bucky didn’t need him acting out of misplaced emotion again. The last time he did that, he put a plane in the ocean.

 

“This won’t be easy to do. We’re going to essentially take down S.H.I.E.L.D. to do this.”

 

“They’ll rebuild it without the trash.” Tony stepped further into the room. “Clint and Natasha suggested they go after Pierce and distract him while we go underground.”

 

“They suggested that because they know we wouldn’t be anywhere but where Bucky was.” Steve finished dressing before reaching out to run a hand through Tony’s hair. “Can I assume you’ve told Nick what we’re doing?”

 

“As much as I didn’t want to. He’s going to gather anyone he knows he can trust.”

 

“Up for a challenge, then?”

 

Tony nodded, taking Steve’s hand in his own before squeezing it. “Let’s go get him.”

 

 

Fighting through S.H.I.E.L.D. was easier than expected, especially since Nick went on the intercom and plainly announced what Steve and Tony were there to do. It was easy to tell who was dirty and who wasn’t by how they responded. A group of agents flanked both of them as they went downstairs and they easily dispatched of anyone who even attempted to get in their way.

 

At least until the Strike Team showed up just outside the file room door. They took out half the team before Steve even realized they were there. Steve put the shield up to protect himself, kneeling to make a smaller target for himself while Tony stood at the front and fired at their knees to take them out.

 

The sounds of gunfire echoed through Steve’s head even after it all finally stopped. He looked over his shield, breath heavy as he took in the bloodied scene around him. A few agents from both sides were down, not all of them were breathing. Tony was scanning something with the suit, but Steve’s focus was on Rumlow.

 

He grabbed the lapels of the man’s uniform and lifted him up. “You always knew?”

 

Rumlow smirked and, instead of answering, spit blood at Steve’s face. Steve narrowed his eyes and dropped him to the side. One of his agents came over and trained a gun right between Rumlow’s eyes, keeping him in place as Steve went to Tony.

 

“Something happened,” Tony said, hand resting over the door. “Brace yourself, okay?”

 

Steve nodded and held his shield up just as Tony blasted the door in. The two of them then rushed into the room, looking around to find the handlers in the room. The scene in here was, if possible, bloodier than the hallway they just left. Among the dead bodies and blood splatters stood Bucky, shirtless and chest heaving. He immediately turned and stared them down.

 

“Wait,” Steve said before Bucky could move, lowering his shield a little. “Bucky...”

 

Bucky unclenched and re-clenched his fists, eyes darting around the room like a caged animal. Tony lowered his gauntlets and tried to stand as unthreatening as possible in the suit. Steve put the shield down against the wall and put his hands up in front of him, showing Bucky that he was unarmed now. It was just like when he tried to pet the scared stray in the alley, except this time the scared stray could potentially kill him.

 

“Buck, it’s us. Tony’s going to open the suit helmet, so don’t freak out.”

 

That hadn’t been part of the plan, but Steve was glad when he heard the _whir_ of machinery behind him as he assumed Tony did as asked. He wasn’t about to turn and look though. Bucky was eyeing them and the door now and the last thing Steve wanted was for him to bolt while they were was an office war going on.

 

“Did you see? The message on your arm?” When Bucky jerked his arm back, his chest heaving, Steve figured he was on the right track. “That was from us. We wrote it for you.”

 

“Did they try to take it away?” Tony asked, voice soft. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to cause you distress.”

 

“He’s right. We want to bring you somewhere safe. We want to bring you _home_.” Steve slowly reached over, making sure Bucky could see him clearly, and pulled off the glove on his right hand. “Can we show you something?”

 

“I’m going to step out of the suit,” Tony said. The suit made another noise as it opened. “See, it’s just me. And this is just a pen.”

 

Tony came to stand next to Steve, holding up a plain pen in front of him. Steve gently moved his hand in front of Tony, still focused on Bucky to make sure he didn’t try to run. Bucky was too focused on the pen, so Steve figured they didn’t have to worry. Yet.

 

“Watch,” Tony said before drawing a star on the back of Steve’s hand. He then showed Bucky his own hand, the star clearly there. “See? And now watch what happens when I draw on me.”

 

 

 

Bucky stared between Steve’s hand and Tony’s as the man drew another star inside. Then he looked down at his own hand and sucked in a breath. He stumbled back a few feet, his left arm reaching out to dig into the wired gate that surrounded the room.

 

“Come home,” Steve said quietly, holding his hand out to him. “Let us help. We won’t hurt you.”

 

Bucky closed his eyes, legs threatening to collapse beneath him. “I...”

 

Steve approached him slowly, making sure Bucky could see him as he reached out to press his fingers against Bucky’s right arm. “They took you from me,” he said softly. “From _us_.”

 

Bucky lifted his right hand and hovered it over Steve’s chest for a moment before pressing it down, right over his heart. He looked from the stars that Tony was still drawing up to Steve’s face. “Home?”

 

Steve smiled, unable to help himself. “Let’s go home, Buck. We have a lot to catch up on.”

 

Beneath him, Bucky gripped Steve’s shirt and nodded. “ _Home_.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Art Link](https://i.imgur.com/8wXzlsO.png)  
>  (my apologies for the post being missing for a while)  
> [Masterpost](http://mortenavida.tumblr.com/post/178585843103/title-breathe-some-life-into-my-bones-author)


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